


A lesson in rivalry

by BookwormLostInWonderland



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Professors, Domestic Bliss, Enemies to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23385922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookwormLostInWonderland/pseuds/BookwormLostInWonderland
Summary: Neil and Andrew are academics on opposing sides of a scientific argument. When a plane journey and a scientific conference throws them together, that all begins to change. Featuring rooftop conversations, Riko as a crooked researcher who gets put in his place, and a splash of domesticity at the end.“And what makes you think I want to talk to you?”“Because,” Neil began, glancing back at the doorway, back down to reality, “I’m slightly more interesting than the conference.”Andrew cursed softly, barely audible above the sounds of the wind and the streets below, despite their proximity. “I already warned you not to let it go to your head. So is watching paint dry.”Neil smirked, a cocky grin spreading across his face, twisting it into something Andrew really wanted to wipe away. “I’m starting to think I shouldn’t believe you when you say things like that.”
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 35
Kudos: 247





	A lesson in rivalry

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the andreil academic rivals au I've been teasing over on tumblr in recent weeks. Hope you enjoy it as much I did writing it!

Juggling his bag and travel mug, Andrew stubbed out the dying flicker of his cigarette and swiped into the building. The door swung open automatically, granting him entrance into what resembled a cramped waiting room. The walls were bland, a collection of mass-produced art hung haphazardly in an attempt to liven up all the beige. Colourful, hard as rock sofas were arranged in a rectangle in front of a help desk, staffed by an all too friendly administrator.

  
Jane. Her staff ID hung proudly from her fluorescent lanyard. Orange, because of course it was. The Foxes, the university’s exy team haunted the place, everyone’s pride and joy since their ground-breaking defeat of the Edgar Allan Ravens some years back. In his year and a half teaching at Palmetto State, he'd only spoken to her once, and it hadn’t been a particularly long conversation. It wasn’t for lack of trying on her part. 

  
“Good morning!” Her smile was perfect. Too white, too straight, outlined with an unobtrusive shade of pink. “You have a good weekend?” 

  
She was faultlessly polite; he'd give her that. As irksome as her overbearing friendliness was, he supposed there were worse traits to possess, his sleep deprived brain just couldn’t think of any right now. She waved at him, as if the peppy welcome hadn’t been enough. Polite and far chirpier than anyone had any right to be on any day, let alone before eight on a Monday morning. Great. Not for the first time, he wished there was another entrance to this building. Even if it took him fifteen minutes longer, a half hour longer, even, he would gladly take it. Sadly, there wasn’t, so he was stuck with Little Miss Sunshine until he retired, or buried her somewhere the cops would never find her. Whichever came first. 

  
Silently, Andrew avoided her curious gaze and continued walking past the desk, holding his ID card between his teeth as he shifted the strap of his heavy laptop bag higher up on his shoulder. Hopefully at this time, none of his chattier colleagues would be about yet, so with a bit of luck he could avoid them as he made his way through the corridors. He stopped outside his door, spat his ID card from his mouth, and unlocked it. His office was on the smaller side, barely big enough to house his collection of books, and tucked away at the end of a winding corridor, at the end of the social science teaching wall. It came with the territory of being one of the newer lecturers, but it was quiet and allowed him to keep to himself as much as possible, which he preferred. 

  
_Dr. Andrew Minyard. Room 0. 103_

  
He stepped inside and threw his card down on his desk, face down so he didn’t have to see his own face staring back up at him. God, he hated that picture, but he supposed nobody actually liked their photos on any of their identifying documents or cards. Nobody had ever thought he'd make it here, unwanted and mistreated as he was, but that was their problem. Not his. It hadn’t been spite that had driven him this far, or a need to prove the doubters and mockers wrong. People's shock at seeing someone like him get so far said more about them than it did him. 

  
His desk was tidier than you might have imagined, but his shelves were a disaster. Stacks of books filled every available gap of space, stacked two rows deep, with others squeezed in on top of them. Most were English, but the one left open on his desk, with a half a dozen yellow post it notes hanging out over the edges, was in German. He pulled out his chair , sat down and gulped down some hot chocolate, doing his best to ignore the burn as the too hot liquid trickled down his throat. Impatient fingers tapped along the scratched edge of his desk as he waited for his laptop to boot up.

  
Mondays really were the worst. His inbox was full, the second worst possible sight at this time of day. The first would, of course, be finding an empty box of hot chocolate sachets. Tea was too plain and coffee too bitter for first thing in the morning, though he was starting to think he should have made an exception today. He took another gulp from his travel mug, hoping the sugar would give him a much-needed boost, took a deep breath and readied himself to face the day. 

  
His first class of the day wasn’t until eleven, where he had to teach a bunch of wide eyed first years intro to neuroscience. By the end of it, they would possess a basic understanding of the different lobes, the make-up and functions of neurons, and be able to tell their central nervous system from their peripheral. Those that deemed his lecture important enough to pay attention to would, anyway. Those that felt their online shopping order or social media accounts were more interesting, well, they weren’t his problem. Come the exam they’d be feeling sorry and he wasn’t likely to extend them a great deal of understanding. Then there was another two-hour session right afterwards halfway across campus, on neural communication. Better get it over with now then.

  
The first handful of messages were from Nicky, excitedly babbling on about nothing of particular importance. His cousin signed off, cheerily wishing him luck with the start of the new semester and congratulating him on his latest publication. Andrew knew he hadn’t read past the first page, and likely hadn’t understood much past the title. They went in the bin without a response. The next was about a meeting with the module leader. He made a mental reminder (Thursday, unwanted lunch plans, inescapable without major illness or injury, must bring chocolate or earplugs to drown out his drivel) and moved on to the next. 

  
One of his students was in full panic mode over her dissertation. Weird data, apparently. Not very insightful, but hopefully there would be a simple solution. Glancing at the time, he told her if she could be there within the half-hour, he could fit her in before his first class. It would mean putting off his marking until later, but he was in no hurry to drudge through a mountain of mediocre essays, brought to you by the wonders of energy drinks, last minute desperation and three day extensions on assessments students had been given nearly a month to complete. They made him wait for their submissions, he would happily return the favour. Unless they had a genuine reason, he wasn’t one for extending sympathy and understanding towards late hand ins. 

  
Overflowing inbox finally dealt with, he turned his attention back to the paper he had started reading last night. He had only scanned the article before falling asleep, but he hadn’t been impressed. Who the hell did this Josten guy think he was? He had completely torn apart Andrew's latest research offering from last year, and not kindly.

  
Or rather, that was what he had clearly attempted to do, and he might have succeeded if his answering argument had been based on anything apart from ill informed, theoretically unsound bullshit. It was laughable really. Andrew’s publication from three years ago had provided a far better explanation, with clearly superior experimental design and fewer glaring limitations. Andrew doubted Neil Josten’s bullshit findings would replicate, as his own had done almost perfectly, if they were even authentic in the first place and not doctored to fit his frankly ludicrous hypotheses.   
Ordinarily it wouldn’t have bothered him. People were free to believe whatever bullshit claims they liked. They could still buy into the myth that human beings only used a miniscule percentage of their brain, or that brain size alone equalled intelligence. He knew better and that was all that really mattered. He got paid either way, and science didn’t lie. Researchers did, they were only human after all, but that wasn’t the fault of the science they tampered with to fit their purpose. Science was honest, sadly humans weren’t. 

  
This was different. He stabbed a pointed finger against the man's name on the screen. Andrew refused to be torn apart by some clueless, wannabe researcher who probably couldn’t tell one half of the brain from the other, let alone grasp the complexities of its structure and functions. He probably still bought into the ten percent of the brain crap. He prodded at the name again, glowering at the fingerprint smear left behind on the screen, but refused to remedy it. 

  
A knock at the door forced his attention away from the screen, saving him from seething over Neil Josten's trash report any longer. He called them inside. 

  
“Show me the data file and walk me through what you’ve managed so far,” he instructed, sparing no effort on frivolous greetings. Everything, from the blank expression on his face, to his curt tone suggested boredom, but he turned the young woman's laptop to face him instantly, shoving his own out of the way one handed. “Looks like there’s a data entry problem,” Andrew told her, scrolling back up to the top of the dataset. “This variable column here doesn’t look right.” He tapped the screen, angling the laptop to show her.

  
Her face brightened slightly as she leaned in to look, her fair cheeks stained with mascara tinged tears. Andrew offered her no words of comfort, but tore his eyes away from the data file to stare pointedly at the box of tissues on his desk. He sent her on her way a short while later, with significantly drier eyes and a heavy weight lifted from her shoulders. Andrew remembered the stress of dissertations all too well. He didn’t envy her in the slightest. 

  
While he encouraged his students to handle their own problems, and refused to baby them, or spoil them with overly warm words of encouragement, he knew when they had reached the limits of what they were capable of. He knew when he had to step in and point them in the right direction. It was an approach that meant he was either loved or despised, and frankly, that was fine with him. 

...  
His bag was a familiar weight as it slapped across his leg as he tore upstairs to his office. The stairwell door slammed shut behind him with a thud, but no matter how furious he was, he couldn’t justify giving his office door the same harsh treatment. 

  
_Dr. Neil Josten. Room 03.10._

  
He still had to pinch himself most days. Every morning without fail, he would trace the letters, staring at them in awe, as if he feared they would vanish before his eyes. Even on his worst days, it brought a pleased smile to his face. Made him stop in his tracks as he appreciated everything he had pushed himself through to get here. For the past decade he had done little else but work his ass off to be the best he could possibly be. And for once it had paid off. He had done it. He had made it. He was here, and the name on his door proved it. 

  
Unfortunately, today was a bad day. The feel of the solid wood of the door, of cool metal lettering beneath shaking fingers did little to calm his temper. That bastard! Neil barged through the door, threw himself down at his desk and began to reread the article. He only managed to get a few paragraphs in before he was on his feet again and pacing, papers abandoned on the desk. It wasn’t the first time Andrew Minyard had cited his work in his own lower quality articles, simply to try and refute every point Neil made, but damn it, it was starting to grate. The research was there! Andrew just couldn’t accept that he was on the wrong side of the argument. 

  
He'd never met the man, but his published works, partnered with an evening or two of online sleuthing hadn’t painted an endearing picture. Andrew was young, Palmetto neuroscience department’s newest hire, and had a reputation for being difficult to work with. He was supposedly so brilliant that others were willing to overlook his glaring personality flaws, but Neil didn’t rate his work. It was always so cold, so clinical. Oh, he knew his stuff, that was unfortunately evident with the ease at which he discussed even the most complex research, but the unifying feature within all his work (and Neil would reluctantly admit to having curiously devoured the entirety of his research some months ago during a bout of stress related insomnia) was the lack of passion. He may as well have been discussing watching paint dry for the amount of feeling behind his words. 

  
True, you had to maintain a level of professionalism in your work, but why waste all that time if you held no excitement towards what you were doing? The years spent hunched over textbooks, scouring over hundreds of articles just to find that one perfect line that tied all of your points together. The months in the labs, the writing and rewriting of the reports. You had to eat, sleep and breathe your work to be successful at anything, and Neil couldn’t imagine Andrew ever doing that. Pair that with his lack of consideration to viewpoints other than his own, and it all added up to an embarrassing level of loathing towards a man he had never met. 

  
Neil hadn’t felt so strongly against another person since Riko Moriyama, his first PhD supervisor. The man had made the year and a bit spent under his supervision at Edgar Allan University a living hell. At first, Neil had done his damndest to grit his teeth and keep his head down. Edgar Allan was, after all, one of the most prestigious academic institutions in the country, putting out world renowned research every year. The labs were incredible, far superior to any he had worked in previously. But everyone has their limits, and Neil had trouble keeping his opinions to himself at the best of times.

  
Riko was arrogant and cold, entirely uninterested in furthering his students’ research for reasons other than his own personal gain. They had clashed at every stage, and Neil had, at the end of his rope, told him, in no uncertain terms, to “fuck off, and take his celebrity sized ego with him”. A decision he only partially regretted when after months of trying, he had all but given up hope of finding another supervisor to allow him to complete his PhD research. 

  
Kevin Day, formerly of the same university until his leave of absence due to an injury the Christmas before, had come out of nowhere, determined and eager to take Neil on. He had been just as demanding as Riko, inspiring thoughts of homicide in Neil more than once, but no one had been prouder when Neil finally walked out of his thesis defence with his head held high. 

  
…  
Andrew placed his ice cream down on the kitchen worktop and picked up his phone. “I told you, I don`t have the time to go to England. Don’t make me repeat myself again.” His finger hovered over the end call button. 

  
On the other end of the phone, Renee fought back a sigh. “Andrew, if this is about the flight-”

  
“Don`t.” He hated flying, the reminder of his fear was unwelcome. She was his oldest friend from his undergraduate studies at Palmetto, and even she had only found out last Christmas, when the two of them, joined by his twin brother, Aaron, had flown out to Germany to visit Nicky and his fiancé, Erik. He couldn’t wait to do it all over again for the wedding. Maybe he could be sick when the time came? A nice, stomach devastating virus. Or the plague. No, Nicky would see through that in an instant. Aaron too. His brother's medical expertise really was inconvenient at times. 

  
Taking a different approach, Renee said, “This conference will be good for you. It`s an honour to be invited along, your newest research must have really impressed someone important.”

  
Andrew blinked, switching ears, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear as he poked at the melting pool of ice cream in his bowl. “I`m sure Neil Josten will be tearing it apart as we speak.” 

  
In the three years since he had first read Neil`s initial criticism of his work, every subsequent publication of his had been attacked in one way or another by the other researcher. He really needed a hobby. Stamp collecting, gardening, shutting his damn mouth, jumping off a cliff. Either would be a good pick for that asshole, though Andrew favoured the cliff option, himself.

The annoyance factor had lessened over time, now Andrew was expecting it. Neil`s criticisms had actually improved the quality of his work, in his desire to lessen the weaknesses he could call him out on. That didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. 

  
“At least think about it. It`s such a fantastic opportunity for you. Besides, Nicky will never let you hear the end of it if you turn the opportunity down.” She tried, hoping that the mention of his well-meaning, but over enthusiastic cousin would give him a gentle nudge in the right direction.

  
“Strange. You seem to be under the impression Nicky knows about this.” Even his loudmouth cousin would struggle to babble on mindlessly about something he was unaware of. 

  
…  
The weather was fine. At least he didn’t have to worry about a storm wreaking havoc and delaying his flight. The best way to deal with unavoidable experiences that couldn’t be ignored was to just try and get them over with as quickly and painlessly as possible. The airport had been swamped, they had been bottled-necked down to their gate, with kids screaming and shouting the entire way. Thankfully, none of the little monsters had been placed by him. Neil relaxed into his seat, for once grateful for his lack of height as he glanced at the cramped couple across the aisle whose legs were bent uncomfortably close together, that would undoubtedly soon be aching. The man beside him had his nose buried in a book, grasped tightly in one hand, his knuckles white. His free one sat stiffly atop his knee, clenched into a fist. 

  
“Nervous flyer?” Neil asked softly. 

  
He didn’t know why he did it, he never spoke to strangers unless absolutely necessary. Maybe it was his own anxiety about having to present his research at the upcoming conference that made him more sympathetic. All those people, curious, asking questions, interested in interrogating him. It was a little terrifying. He didn’t do crowds if he could help it. Teaching was different, that was safe. Now, at least, but in his early days standing in front of two hundred odd students had ignited his fight or flight response like few things had before.

The only reason why he had forced himself to attend, had dragged his sleep-deprived butt on the trans-Atlantic flight at this ungodly hour of the morning, was because Kevin would have hunted him down and dragged him along if he hadn’t. Sometimes he wished he hadn’t chosen to keep in contact with his former supervisor, but Kevin was a handy person to have on side in this line of work. Despite no longer being associated with Edgar Allan, his name still held an impressive weight in academic circles. 

  
The man eyed him out of the corner of his eye, never putting his book down, though it was doubtful given the state he was in that he was even capable of taking any of it in. Fair hair and pale skin poked out from behind the cover. Recognition flashed across Neil`s face for a moment, then it was gone. 

  
“Headed to London too?” He had to be sure. It certainly looked like Andrew Minyard, but he couldn’t be sure. The glasses were new, dark framed and practical, not included in the picture he had found on Palmetto`s faculty website a few years before. Sure, it was a small world, but could it really be that small? The odds had to be astronomical. 

  
“That`s what my ticket said.” 

“For work or-“

  
“Don`t you know what happened to the cat?” Andrew finally lowered his book. And it was-had to be Andrew. “Curiosity killed it.” 

  
Neil shrugged. “I`m not a cat.”

  
“No, you`re a nuisance, though.” He picked up his book again, fist unclenched but arm still tense. 

  
…  
Auburn hair that refused to lay flat, bright blue eyes and ratty blue jeans, worn at the knees and frayed at the bottoms where they covered his converse. He didn’t look like a lecturer, but Andrew supposed outside of the context of an echoing lecture theatre, he didn’t either. Double pierced ears adorned with simple black studs- a remnant from his undergrad days- and a long-sleeved black hoodie worn loose over slim fitting charcoal jeans. Not the traditional blazer with elbow patch attire favoured by stuffy academics in the movies. His reading glasses probably helped a little. He knew who he was as soon as he sat down. It might have been two and a half years since curiosity had gotten the better of him and he had hunted down a picture to put with the name of the man who seemed determined to piss him off, but he hadn`t forgotten. What a cruel bastard the universe was. As if this flight wasn’t going to be bad enough, only he could be so unlucky as to get stuck next to the biggest thorn in his side. 

  
He turned his attention to his book, grateful for the distraction from the queasiness in the pit of his stomach. “You`re a nuisance,” he told Neil, when he kept badgering him. 

  
Did he know who he was? If he did, he was keeping quiet. That was fine with him. The less he had to do with Neil Josten, the better. It seemed likely that their paths would cross at one time or another, what with the way they sought each other’s work out to tear down. Part of him had been wondering whether Neil would be attending the conference, and now the answer was sitting right next to him, watching him out of the corner of his eyes when he thought Andrew wasn`t watching. 

  
“Satisfaction brought it back,” he said, folding his arms. 

  
_What?_ He rubbed at his temple. Neil`s smile was smug, parted lips curled upwards as if daring him to retaliate. Right. The cat. The damn cat that curiosity killed. He captured the attention of a passing flight attendant. “I need a drink.” 

  
It was going to be a long flight. 

  
…  
The four day conference was due to start bright and early the next morning. All Neil could think about as he went about his nightly routine was his flight. Or more specifically the man he had met on the flight. Andrew Minyard. His well-established rival. Matt and Dan, his friends from his part time work at Starbucks during his early studies, had turned it into a bit of a joke. One that even Kevin would join in with on occasion. Gone was his anxiety about the event, the thought of getting up on that stage tomorrow afternoon didn’t fill him with half as much dread as coming face to face with Andrew again. 

  
Or maybe they wouldn’t. Andrew didn’t seem like the sociable type. Maybe he would go out of his way to avoid Neil for the duration of the conference. It was a big event, after all. Taking place in some fancy London hotel, spread throughout conference rooms one to three. Lying back in his hotel bed, he let out a sigh of relief. Everything was going to be fine. He would deliver his speech, reluctantly mingle with the other guests, keep his head down and get through the conference with as minimal interaction with Andrew as possible. Then, they would return to America and their paths would never cross again. In person, at least. He was certain nothing short of a zombie apocalypse would prevent them from ripping into each other's work. 

  
So what was this strange twisting feeling wriggling around in his chest, the solid lump in his throat? Whatever it was, it was a problem for another day. Not something to be dealt with tonight, with the weight of his exhaustion pressing down on his eyelids. Rolling onto his side, Neil closed his eyes and waited for sleep to take him. 

  
He didn’t remember much of that morning. Breakfast was a hurried ordeal, slipping into his shoes with half a chunk of a dry, tasteless cereal bar still poking out from his mouth. The memory of his eventful flight still at the forefront of his mind, he arrived outside conference room one, straggling behind the rest of the attendees. 

  
The hall was massive, all cream walls and blue velvet curtains draped across the front wall. Rows upon rows of chairs had been arranged in perfect lines, and a stage had been erected at the front, complete with a fancy desk with a built-in microphone, lit by too bright spotlights. More than half of the seats were already occupied. He recognised a few faces, but most were unfamiliar to him. Jeremy Knox from South California was near the front, instantly recognisable by his brilliant smile and casual dress. Kevin was chatting animatedly with him. He would be presenting a special lecture on the final day in the room opposite, about his latest work on how elite athletes encode spatial information in their brains. Neil was looking forward to it, Kevin's paper had been fascinating, one of his favourites from last year. 

  
His stomach flipped as he caught sight of a tuft of blond out of the corner of his eye towards the back of the room. Andrew looked no less intimidating today in his more formal wear than he had yesterday, dressed head to toe in black. Despite last night’s intentions to keep his distance, Neil found his feet dragging him along towards him. Later he would tell himself it was the crowd’s fault, but at the time he barely noticed the hustle and bustle going on around him. 

  
Andrew wasn’t surprised by his approach. He had watched him coming from across the vast hall. “Oh. It’s you again.” He didn’t sound happy to see him, but he didn’t sound annoyed either. 

  
“Me again,” he agreed. “Are you looking forward to the conference?” He didn’t know why he was making small talk. Ordinarily, he loathed it. 

  
“The same way you might look forward to a trip to the emergency room.” 

  
Neil’s eyebrows furrowed. “But this is the biggest conference of the year. Anyone who is anyone in neuroscience is here.” 

  
“How exciting for you. Fortunately, I’m able to control my enthusiasm.” 

  
By now almost everyone had made it to a seat. The first speaker would be taking to the stage any moment. Neil knew he should join the other guests in finding a place to park his butt for the opening speech. “Why are you here then?” 

  
“I was told there would be free food.” He gestured lazily in the direction of the refreshments table. 

  
A woman took to the stage, a plastic wallet full of papers and a memory stick in her hands.

  
“Seriously. This has to mean something to you.” 

  
Andrew titled his head to the side. “Why should it? This is work. Nothing more.”

  
Neil took a breath and jammed his hands into his front pockets, to save from jabbing them in front of Andrew’s face. Something in his stare told him he wouldn’t take kindly to that sort of confrontation. “But it’s not just work, is it? Research is your life, you spent years trying to get here.” 

  
He couldn’t wrap his head around Andrew’s clear lack of passion for what he did. It couldn’t be genuine, surely? “I’ve read your work, and despite my opposing viewpoint, I can admit that you know what you’re talking about. You’re good.” 

  
“I know you’ve read it. A bit hard to miss, the way you seem determined to tear it to shreds.” 

  
Neil didn’t have the sense nor the good nature to look abashed, his gaze determined and unwavering as he met Andrew’s stare. “You know who I am.” The words caught in his throat. 

  
Andrew didn’t look away, but it felt to Neil like he was staring right through him. “I'm over this conversation, Neil.” Andrew dismissed him with a wave. 

  
“You called me Neil.” It shouldn’t have been surprising. Only seconds ago he had accused Andrew of knowing his identity, but knowing and hearing the words coming from his lips were two entirely different things.

  
“What, you thought I didn’t know that you’re the bastard who has spent the past few years pissing me off?” Andrew scoffed, “I’m not an idiot, Dr. Josten.” 

  
Of course he had recognised him. How could he not? Few people had the power to get under Andrew’s skin, and Neil had been the most infuriating and persistent in years. Nothing and nobody had irked him quite like Neil did. Not since Kevin. The researcher had approached him some time ago now, encouraging him to transfer from Palmetto to Edgar Allan for his post graduate studies. Kevin had left disappointed and pissed off at Andrew's dismissal. 

  
“You recognised me on that plane,” Neil accused. “You didn’t say anything.” Around them, people motioned for them to be quiet, hushing them with pursed lips as the presentation dawned closer. Bending to perch on the seat beside Andrew, Neil whispered, “You knew and you said nothing. Why?” 

  
“You’re one to talk. You didn’t say anything yesterday either.” Andrew’s fingers tapped along his armrest, empty and itching for a cigarette. He had thought the flight was torture. This was worse. Was it Neil's sole purpose in life to get on his every last nerve? It was beginning to seem that way. 

  
“You knew that I recognised you?”

  
“I knew it was a possibility,” he admitted. “I had nothing to say to you, so I didn’t mention it. Looks like that backfired on me.” His stare darkened. “Typical.” 

  
Oblivious to the irritated glances the other attendees kept throwing them, Neil continued, “Nothing to say to me? You had nothing to say.” 

  
“What would you like me to say? If you’re expecting an apology for inferring your incompetence as a researcher, you’re going to have a long wait.” Looking back now, after reading his newest work, Andrew could silently admit to himself that he had perhaps spoken too soon. Been unfairly harsh. He wasn’t about to admit his minute change of heart out loud though, not to Neil. Not to anyone. 

  
“Work with me then.” The words were flying out of his mouth before he could rein them back in. “Let’s put an end to the debate once and for all. Maybe I’m right, maybe I’m not, but I want to find out and I can’t do that without your help.” 

  
A raised eyebrow was all that indicated Andrew had heard his request. “Not interested. Goodbye now.”

  
For the first time all morning he turned his attention away from Neil to the front of the hall, where Dr. Whatever her name is, was babbling on about the latest advances in neuroimaging technology. It might have been somewhat interesting, but it was like watching grass grow compared to the irritating man who had so rudely invited himself to sit next to him. Admitting defeat, for the moment, anyway, Neil followed his example, shocked to find that his earlier excitement had evaporated. 

  
After the first talk was over, attendees had the chance to ask questions and mingle. Pure hell. Neil watched as Andrew slipped out of the door. He debated staying put, but seeing Kevin heading towards him made his decision frightfully simple. 

  
“I didn’t know you worked here,” Neil called after him. 

  
Andrew was fiddling with a door signposted as roof access: staff only, his all black attire standing out in stark contrast against the pristine walls of the hotel corridor. He watched as Andrew made quick work of the lock and ducked inside, catching it before it swung shut. 

  
“Everyone is too preoccupied with the Q and A.” As if that was some kind of reasonable explanation for sneaking up onto a hotel roof in the middle of the morning. 

  
Neil was half expecting someone to notice them, but Andrew was right. Everyone was too busy doing their own thing to see them sneaking upstairs. 

  
“I must have memory failure, because I don’t recall inviting you to come with me,” Andrew said. 

  
He hadn’t been entirely certain, but he had been fairly confident that Neil would follow him out of the room. He was more confident that if he had, that he would follow him up to the roof. There were two things he had learnt over the years about the other man. The first was that Neil Josten didn’t know when to quit. The second was that he had the curious talent of getting under his skin. Both were as unnerving as they were irritating, so he preferred to ignore them. 

  
Neil shrugged, closing the door softly behind them and following Andrew up the stairwell. “I invited myself.” 

  
Andrew was starting to sense Neil did that a lot. He had invited himself to walk up to Andrew and start a conversation, despite knowing who he was, invited himself to the empty seat next to him. And now, he had invited himself to trail after him as he escaped the confines of the conference hall, unnoticed, but for him. 

  
“Don’t you know when you’re not wanted?”

Truthfully, Andrew hoped he didn't.   
It was a feeling Andrew sadly knew all too well. He had spent his childhood passed around from foster home to foster home like a misdirected parcel. Shifted from one to the other, battered and bruised and eventually returned only to be moved on to the next one. The families that ignored him had been the best of a bad lot, the handful that had wanted him hadn’t done so out of a selfless desire to give a neglected child a loving home. That was the main reason he had never moved on from Palmetto, despite other, grander options making themselves known. He had finally found something stable, somewhere to stay, somewhere he was wanted. 

  
“You haven’t told me to fuck off yet.” Neil shrugged his shoulders again, pausing a few steps behind Andrew, allowing him room to prise open the next door. Clearly, he had done this sort of thing before. Briefly, he wondered where and why. What had been on the other side of a bolted door that Andrew had been so desperate to reach? 

  
What Neil didn’t know was that he hadn’t been trying to reach something on the other side, but escape something on his side. 

  
Neil knew what it was like to be unwanted too, a tiny little child left in the dark, punished for making a single sound. He wasn’t about to get into the complexities of his traumatically messed up family life with an almost stranger, though. Not that they were strangers, not really. While they hadn’t met in person until yesterday, and they didn’t know the typical, useless stuff about the other, like their favourite colour and Starbucks order, they weren’t strangers. 

  
Neil knew Andrew understood the human brain like few others did, knew which types of experimental design he preferred, and that he was the youngest neuroscientist taken on in his university’s history. Maybe that was why he couldn’t wrap his head around Andrew's dispassion for his work. To achieve all he had in record time was surely indicative of an impressive inner drive, of commitment and passion for his subject. 

  
“Why the roof, anyway?” he asked, following him through the opening. “Planning to push me off it?”

  
It was tempting. 

  
Andrew didn’t answer. Instead he pointed to a worn sign to the left of the door. “There used to be a rooftop pool,” Neil surmised from the faded lettering. “Fancy.” 

  
“It closed for refurbishment a while back, but never reopened.” Andrew shrugged, like he really couldn’t care less why the pool shut down, as long as its shell would provide a quiet space to escape the crowds below. 

  
“Was there a murder? People get funny about places there’s been death.” 

  
Andrew looked back over his shoulder, staring at Neil from the top of the stairway. “No murders yet.” He fiddled with the final door in their way. It took him longer than the others, the lock had stiffened from lack of use. 

  
Neil shook his head, the beginnings of a smile twisting his lips upwards. “Is that a threat?”  
Andrew considered. “That depends, do you plan to keep criticising my research?”  
The grin widened. “Obviously. Unless you reconsider my offer to collaborate on a project. I’m unlikely to shit on my own work.”   
“Well, I have that covered.” 

  
Neil fought the urge to roll his eyes and failed. “I’ve noticed.”

  
The door finally gave in and opened to reveal what once must have been a beautiful pool. A rooftop patio area stood to one side of the empty pool, the cracks in its floor growing over with filth. From their perch overlooking the city, the pavement below looked like a child’s playset, dotted with ant like people and wind-up toy cars. 

  
Neil wasn’t sure how he had ended up here, overlooking the London streets with the man he had spent the past few years cursing and hating. “I’m giving my presentation at three,” he said casually, finding a dry spot to sit down on. He didn’t know why he mentioned it. If Andrew had glanced at the timetable, he would have known that already. Besides, why would he want to listen to him speak? 

  
“I know, I read the schedule.” Andrew sat beside him, close enough so that they didn’t have to raise their voices to be heard, but too far apart for their thighs to brush.

Neil eyed the space between them. Too close, far too close, and far too far apart. Curiously, he found himself wanting to close the gap. "Should I expect you to start heckling me?” It was a tease, he wasn’t really expecting it. Andrew might storm out halfway through, but he would do so quietly, not feeling the need to waste his words. He decided against closing the gap. A wise decision, he told himself, but he wasn’t sure how much he believed it. 

  
“Change the record.” Andrew pulled out his lighter from his pocket. A simple thing, plain black with his initials engraved. A gift from Nicky, kept because of its functionality, if you asked Andrew, and out of sentiment if you asked Nicky. Neil hadn’t known he smoked, but he looked good doing it. Dressed all in black, fair hair ruffled by the wind, head tilted back as he exhaled the smoke like a sigh.

Against the dingy backdrop of the abandoned pool, overlooking the London skyline, surrounded by smoke, he didn’t look quite real. More like a scene from an unknown indie movie than a man. 

  
“I’m tired of you rambling on about work.” Andrew waved a hand in front of him to get his attention, but he had never lost it.   
Neil frowned. What else was there to talk about? What other common ground did they have? He watched silently as Andrew retrieved his pack of cigarettes from his lap and lit another. 

  
“Can I have one?” He held out his arm, palm upturned, hoping for a cigarette to be deposited in his hand.

  
He didn’t smoke, not really, but it was a reminder of his mother and would offer a welcome distraction from whatever this was. He hadn’t decided yet if he still hated Andrew. The other man was certainly intimidating, but he didn’t feel intimidated. Curious, he was curious. 

  
“Will it get you to shut up?” Andrew's gaze swapped between the packet of cigarettes and Neil, holding his own between his long, pale fingers. 

  
“Sorry. It probably won’t,” Neil admitted. All his life his mouth had gotten him into trouble. He was good at that, and less talented at using it to worm his way out of it again. “Worth a shot, though, right?” He smiled. 

  
Andrew didn’t return the smile, but his lip twitched. Just a second, but it was there. He handed over one of his cigarettes and held the lighter to the end. They both took a drag in silence, watching the world as it passed by without them far below. 

  
“Will you come to my presentation?” It would be terrifying, knowing Andrew was watching him with those hazel eyes and impenetrable stare, just waiting for him to mess up and trip over his words or drop his notes. Neil also knew it wouldn’t feel right unless he was there, judging him like he always did, this time in person and not hidden behind a screen. 

  
Andrew sighed and shook his head. “You really are obsessed, aren’t you?” He rolled his eyes. “It had better be better than your paper in Developmental Neuroscience. I almost couldn’t finish that one.” 

  
He wasn’t lying, but his issues with finishing the article hadn’t been due to low quality research. Neil’s work on the impacts of childhood abuse on neural development had hit far too close to home. It had been the only paper of Neil's he had been unable to criticise, opting instead to stay well away from it for his own sanity. 

  
Neil's answering smile was one of excitement and disbelief. “You'll come?”  
He couldn’t quite believe it. Andrew hated him. Hated his research, his writing, his enthusiasm. Hated everything about him.   
Andrew rolled his eyes again. He hated his disgustingly pretty face, his eyes, his hair. It looked so soft, even as the breeze tangled it. He despised the way he challenged him, made him feel something, even if it was only irritation. 

  
“What’s in it for you?” Neil sounded dubious.  
“I wanted to see if it would get you to shut up.” He leaned forward, blowing smoke in his face. “Guess that’s an impossible feat.” He got to his feet, stamping out the butt of his cigarette. 

  
“Looks like you’ll have to keep trying.” Neil said, laughing through the smoke in his lungs, but it came out like a cough. 

  
Andrew paused for a moment, staring at Neil as though he was struggling to work something out. He must have come to something resembling an answer, because a moment later he poked him on the shoulder. “Come on.” 

  
“If I’m so annoying,” Neil began, jumping to his feet and walking towards the doorway, “then why do you keep talking to me?” He leant his elbow against the door frame, not enough to block the exit, but just enough so that Andrew couldn’t ignore him. 

  
“You’re slightly less boring than this fucking conference.” It wasn’t a compliment, not really, but if the warmth spreading across his chest was anything to go by, Neil was going to take it as one. “But don’t let that go to your head, so is watching paint dry.” Andrew shoved passed him and started down the stairs, letting the door slam in his wake. 

  
...  
Neil's presentation wasn’t for another couple of hours, but Andrew was restless. Lunch was a quiet affair, but only because he had escaped back to his hotel room to eat the snacks he had snatched from the refreshment table on his way back down from the roof. If Neil had caught him at his thievery, which he must have, he was keeping quiet about it. 

  
Andrew stated blankly at the bland magnolia walls of his room. He hated hotels. Hated the fakeness of them, the floors and floors of identical, endless corridors. Hated the unfamiliar sounds, especially at night, the muted whispers of other guests in the neighbouring rooms, the creeks in the floorboards above as some old guy got up to take a piss, the unfamiliar doors with locks he didn’t quite trust. Hated the put on chirpiness of the reception staff, the tired, dead eyes of the cleaners as they trudged their way from room to room, corridor to corridor. He wondered fleetingly if Neil felt the same, if he hated the unfamiliar too. 

  
Neil. Andrew wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t this. Neil's picture had shown an unassuming young man, dressed in plain clothes that almost lost him in the neutral backdrop, not the nosy and irksome individual he had been battling it out with over the years. He was even more of a pain in person than he could have ever predicted. And as for his insistence that they put their differences aside and work together, well. Surely, he wasn’t foolish enough to think that was going to happen? 

  
Andrew could picture it now. The fights over every insignificant little detail, the arguments over the data, the disagreements throughout the write up. Frustration and neuro labs didn’t mix. There was no room for anger around such expensive equipment, and he didn’t want to find out how easily blood washed off of an MRI unit. It would be the biggest disaster since the Titanic. No, working together was not advisable. Not a remotely sensible option. 

  
Andrew pulled a face and let out a disgruntled groan, cursing himself, cursing Neil, cursing everything that brought him here. He couldn’t, wouldn’t let himself do this. If Neil was already so far under his skin after a few hours spent together and a few academic call outs, then there was no way that months cooped up together in the labs would end in anything but total annihilation of one, possibly both of them. No, it was best that after this conference they went their separate ways, returned to their criticism and their call outs behind their screens, and nothing else. After this week, Andrew would never have to lay eyes on Neil again, and that would be for the best. It would be. 

  
The last time he had taken any kind of interest in a person had been Cass, and look at how that turned out. He couldn’t risk it again. It was better to keep your distance, smarter. Safer. True, that had been an entirely different situation, but the same rules applied to whatever this was.

  
Nothing, this was nothing. And Neil was going to remain nothing. He had to. 

  
The conference hall wasn’t a welcome sight to come back to, but he returned after lunch all the same. Neil hadn’t taken to the stage yet, but the hall was already packed with bodies, some wandering about trying to find their seats, but most were waiting patiently, eyeing the stage like something incredible was about to happen. Buried within his pocket, Andrew's phone buzzed silently, the vibration jerking him from his unwanted thoughts of blue eyes, auburn hair and determined smiles. _Renee._

  
_How’s the conference going? It’s strange not having you here. Good luck with the talk! Xx._

  
He rolled his eyes at the message, at the tiny little crosses at the end. Still, at least conversing with her through texts was less headache inducing that Nicky, whose love of using too many ridiculous emojis was enough to set Andrew’s teeth on edge. He was in his thirties for fuck’s sake, well past then point of such ridiculousness, in Andrew’s opinion. 

  
Ignoring the main content of her message he replied, fingers tapping hurriedly across the screen as he saw Neil walk up to the stage.   
_Save the kisses for your girlfriend. You’ll make me puke._

  
Neil's head was held high as he strode into the spotlight as if he had been raised for it, but Andrew recognised a mask when he saw one, carefully composed as it was. Neil was nervous. His lips were redder than when they had spoken on the roof, sore and bitten raw from worry. His eyes kept darting around the hall, pausing at each wall and corner, as if mapping out all potential escapes. 

  
Across the sea of people, their eyes locked.   
Neil didn’t think he could do this. Why in the hell had he ever agreed to this in the first place? He was so far out of his depth it was laughable. He had no problem standing in front of his regular classes, that was familiar, plus it was comforting to know that half of the students weren’t listening to him anyway. This, this was different. He was surrounded by experts, actual geniuses, giants in the field. Professors with ground-breaking studies, who had changed the field, defined it and made it what it was today. And he wasn’t ready, not for this. Not prepared, not good enough to stand up on this stage in front of all of them and give his speech. And Andrew, he was staring right at him. Waiting. Watching. He could almost feel the weight of his eyes on him. 

  
Towards the back of the hall, a door slammed shut, revealing an all too familiar head of tidy dark hair, belonging to a man wearing a haughty expression. Like Andrew, he too, was dressed head to toe in black, in a suit so luxurious Neil balked at the thought of the price tag. His insides turned to ice as recognition dawned on him, his blood chilling in his veins. Riko was here. He strode into the room with his head held high and a confident swagger, flopping into a chair in the second to last row, leaving just a few empty seats between him and Andrew. He clearly intended to set his former student on edge, see him fail. Neil grit his teeth and jammed his memory stick into the computer, missing the slot in his anger, but succeeding on the second attempt. Well, not today, Riko.

  
Heart pounding, skin crawling, he tapped the microphone, wincing at the sharp feedback. At least it was working. The last thing he needed right now was for the technology to malfunction in front of Riko. “Right, good afternoon everyone. I’m Neil Josten.” He forced a smile onto his face that he knew was unconvincing, but was the best he could summon up under the circumstances. “I’ve been invited here today to talk to you about my latest research.” 

  
Even under the lights, he could still feel the heat of Andrew's gaze as it pierced through him, unblinking and fierce. Andrew hadn’t so much as paid Riko a split second glance, which if Neil knew the arrogant jerk as well as he thought, must be twisting a fury coated knife in his chest. Neil tore his eyes away and continued on, staring at a spot in the front row, briefly making eye contact with Kevin, who wore a proud grin in spite of himself. He hadn’t noticed Riko yet, and Neil prayed it stayed that way. Inseparable for many years , they had headed up Edgar Allan’s neuro labs together, until, sick and tired of Riko taking the credit for his work, Kevin had dared to speak out, and gotten a broken hand and a dismissal for his efforts.

  
Coming towards the end of his speech and Riko looked angrier with every passing second. Looks like he didn’t approve of his former student’s success without him. What a shame. Neil shot him a glance, a brief flicker of a smirk playing with his lips, just for him to see. Riko scowled, and Neil turned his head away, satisfied. 

  
“Any questions?” He didn’t mean to sound snappy, but if he had to spend another second up there, being goggled at like a fish in a bowl, he was going to scream. Neil left the stage to a soft but friendly round of applause. Riko's hands remained firmly in his lap. 

  
“How did I do?” He hadn’t planned on making a beeline for Andrew, but his feet had other ideas, carrying him over to the other man the second he escaped the stage. 

  
“Neil, how nice to see you again.” Riko's voice was like ice, as he extended a hand, his expression enough to sour milk. “I’m glad to see you haven’t fallen off of the face of the Earth since leaving us. That would have been a massive waste of your potential.” 

  
Ignoring him, Neil sat between him and Andrew, angling his back to Riko, hoping he would get the message and storm out like the petulant child he was. “Well, what did you think?” He tried, and likely failed not to sound too excited. Now that it was over, there were so many things he would have changed about his talk, but mostly he was just grateful it was finished. 

  
Andrew titled his head in consideration, as he raised a finger to his lips. Tapping it against his mouth slowly, he said, “You didn’t flee. I half expected you to there at the beginning.”   
Neil rolled his eyes. “You would never have let me live it down.”

  
“I don’t care enough about you for that.” The words were harsh, but their delivery was more so. It was a pity for Andrew that Neil wasn’t inclined to believe it. 

  
“Funny, for someone who doesn’t care, you sure do spend enough time criticising my work.” 

  
Andrew froze. Neil took it as a win, committing the brief hint of surprise on the other man’s face to memory. “I’ll take your lack of criticism of my speech as a compliment.” His Cheshire Cat grin made Andrew want to wipe it off his smug face. 

  
A hand tapped against his shoulder, flattening the excitement bubbling in stomach. You shouldn’t be so rude to me.” 

  
“Why?” Neil scoffed, losing his ever-thinning patience with Riko and his shit already. “I can’t possibly have hurt your feelings by ignoring you, seeing as you don’t have any.” 

  
He got to his feet, relief pooling in his chest as he heard Andrew do the same. He wanted to get away from Riko now, preferably before he could cause a scene by decking him in the face, but there was no way he was going to leave Andrew sitting alone with him. He didn’t trust Riko as far as he could throw him, and that was him being generous. 

  
Beside him, Andrew let out a mirthless laugh. “I think it’s time to leave,” he addressed Riko for the first time, staring him down as though he was no more than an ant under his shoe. “You have nothing of worth to say to us, you just came here to run your mouth to make yourself feel better about your inadequacies.” 

  
Neil shoved passed him, grinning back over his shoulder as he said, “Kevin says his work has improved tenfold now that you’re no longer holding him back.” Kevin would scream at him later for dragging him into their little pissing contest, but for now he couldn’t care less. 

  
Riko’s answering glare was scathing, enough to turn the soured milk poisonous. Neil loved it. “This isn’t over.” 

  
They didn’t stop until they were outside the hall. Neil half expected Andrew to open up the door for them to sneak up to the roof again, but he didn’t. 

  
“Didn’t you learn to pick your battles better?” Andrew turned on him. “Fucking Riko Moriyama! I can’t decide if you’re suicidal or just plain stupid.”

  
And with that, Andrew turned and walked away, before Neil even had the chance to open his mouth to defend himself. He was left there, slack jawed and wondering what the hell had just happened. 

  
...  
They didn’t meet again until the following afternoon. Neil had caught a flash of blond hair and black clothing slipping behind the roof access door and quickly followed, catching up to him before he was even four steps up. 

  
“You’re missing the conference.” 

  
_You’re more interesting._ He didn’t know what that admission meant for him, but he knew better than to say it out loud for Andrew to hear. 

  
“Riko is up next. I don’t need to get a headache listening to that bastard gloat about his stolen work.”

  
His comment earned him a raised eyebrow. “Say what you really mean, Dr.”

  
Neil scoffed. “He was my first PhD supervisor, before Kevin.” To say they hadn’t gotten on was an understatement. “He fiddles with his data, did you know that?”  
Andrew said nothing, holding the door to allow Neil to walk through first. It was colder up here today, and Neil wished he had brought a jacket. 

  
“The fake data isn’t your biggest problem though, is it?” There was a knowing edge to his voice.

  
Neil shook his head. “Kevin is normally very good at keeping his mouth shut. But he got completely drunk one night a few months back, hinted that his skiing incident wasn’t an accident, and that he was forced to quit because he had figured Riko out.” 

  
“You believe that?”

  
Neil narrowed his eyes. “I know Kevin. I worked with him for three years. He's a royal pain in the ass, but he would never risk his career on a maybe. It means too much to him." With determination, Neil said, “Riko is a fake." 

  
Leaning in, Andrew said, “Let me guess. Kevin ran away with his tail between his legs.”

  
Agitated at the dismissal of his friend, Neil snapped, “Trying to out Riko as a fraud backfired catastrophically.” Kevin might be arrogant, and a bit of a prick, but he was a good person where it counted. And an even better researcher, miles better than Riko. He hadn’t deserved what he had done to him. “He went to the head of school, but Riko's family practically rule that dump.” He had never stood a chance. Speaking out had been incredibly brave, and had nearly cost him everything. “He suffered an injury that nearly ruined his hand beyond repair and dismissed. But anyone with a couple of brain cells can work out the truth.”

  
“Of course.” Andrew nodded, folding his arms across his chest. “From past experience I would say not many do though.”   
Neil rubbed at his temple. “God, I hate those bastards.” 

  
“More than you hate me?” Andrew asked dryly, pressing an open palm across his heart mockingly. “I’m wounded.” 

  
“I don’t hate you.” He wasn’t sure how to describe how he felt for his long-term rival, but it wasn’t all bad. It certainly wasn’t anything close to hatred. “You piss me off.”

  
“I do what I can.” A hint of a smile played with his lips. Neil blinked and it was gone. Maybe it was never there at all. “It makes sense that you worked under Kevin, you’re both as obsessed as each other.” 

  
“You talk as though you know Kevin.” Neil phrased it as a statement, not a question, though he had no idea how or when the two could have met. Edgar Allan was a completely different world to Palmetto, Kevin a completely different creature to Andrew.

  
Andrew sighed, a low, drawn out huff of breath tinged with boredom. “They should call you Pinocchio, you can’t help yourself from butting your oversized nose into everything, can you?” 

  
Another sigh, as he dug into his back pocket and pulled out his lighter and cigarette carton. He slipped one out and lit it effortlessly, tossing the pack to Neil without waiting to be asked. He caught it reflexively, the sharp movement dragging his gaze away from Andrew momentarily. 

  
“Thank you.” 

  
Andrew held the lit lighter in front of his borrowed cigarette, lighting it for him, before tucking it back inside his pocket. Ignoring his words of appreciation, he continued as though Neil hadn’t spoken, offering only two words in explanation, “David Wymack.” 

  
Neil’s brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he tried to make sense of Andrew’s offering. Everybody knew who Professor David Wymack was. Every little wide eyed, out of their depth first year was familiar with the name, if not the intricacies and the finer details of his research. He'd been teaching at Palmetto for the past two decades, ever since the grand opening of their neuroscience department. What did that have to do with Kevin? 

  
Realisation dawned on him like a slap to the face, sudden and sharp. “Wymack is Kevin's father.” 

  
Andrew clapped slowly, once, twice, three times, his palms slapping together harshly. “Gold star for you.” 

  
“Wymack was your PhD supervisor, wasn’t he? That’s how you met Kevin.”

  
“And my academic advisor. Wymack I could deal with, he was happy to leave you to it most of the time, but Kevin, he was like you.” He flicked ash at Neil’s feet. “A pain in the ass.”

  
“He's a genius though.”

  
Andrew shrugged, like it didn’t matter to him that he had met one of the greatest researchers of a generation. Taking a drag, he said, “Kevin wanted me to work for him, go to Edgar Allan. Said I had potential or something.” 

  
He rolled his eyes and flicked his cigarette to the ground, into the empty pool. He acted so blasé about it, coming from anyone else it would have sounded boastful, but it genuinely didn’t seem to be of any great concern to Andrew the opportunity he had turned down. Neil wanted to hate him for it, but he supposed he had his reasons for staying at Palmetto. 

  
Leaning forward, Neil prompted him to continue in a hushed voice. “You turned him down, why?”

  
He scoffed. “I was willing to work for Kevin, not Riko's shadow. Told him to come back to me when he grew a spine. And then-” 

  
“Then Riko nearly broke him,” Neil finished solemnly, doing the same with his own cigarette. 

  
“I guess he finally grew a spine after all. About damn time.” Neil wanted to be annoyed, but he knew Andrew didn’t mean anything nasty by it, as unkind as it might sound. Despite the harshness of his words, he sounded proud. 

  
“Does that mean you'll work with him now?” Neil couldn’t name the tight feeling in his throat, the flip-flopping twist in his gut, or the fire raging hot inside his chest, but he didn’t like it. 

  
“No.” 

  
_Oh._ Good. The burning in his chest eased. He couldn’t explain it, but the thought of Andrew working with Kevin, after refusing his own offer, he didn’t like it. “Will you still not work with me?” If Dan was here she would say he was acting jealous, but that was ridiculous. Why would he be? 

  
Andrew poked a hand under his chin, raising his head slowly so their eyes met. Neil found himself unable to look away even if he had wanted to. Luckily he didn’t. “Haven’t we been over this?” he released his grip, his hands falling into his lap. Neil still didn’t avert his gaze. “Your use of the word ‘still’ indicates that we have, and that you remember it. So that rules out amnesia.” 

  
“Sorry.” He didn’t sound very sorry at all, more disappointed than anything. “I’ll drop it now if you really want. We can talk about whatever you want.” 

  
“And what makes you think I want to talk to you?” 

  
“Because,” Neil began, glancing back at the doorway, back down to reality, “I’m slightly more interesting than the conference.” 

  
Andrew cursed softly, barely audible above the sounds of the wind and the streets below, despite their proximity. “I already warned you not to let it go to your head. So is watching paint dry.”

  
Neil smirked, a cocky grin spreading across his face, twisting it into something Andrew really wanted to wipe away. “I’m starting to think I shouldn’t believe you when you say things like that.” 

  
_Start believing it, then._ He wanted to mean it, wanted nothing to do with Neil. Wanted to want nothing to do with him. Andrew knew the sensible thing to do would be to leave, to ignore Neil for the remainder of the conference, to never say another word to him as long as he lived. He was starting to doubt his own intelligence, and it wasn’t a feeling he liked. 

  
...  
Neil woke on day three of the conference with a spring in his step and a troupe of acrobats in his stomach. His gut kept twisting in knots, flipping around, it was almost nauseating. Andrew, he was going to see Andrew again. In less than an hour. He washed and dressed in a hurry, scrubbing his skin pink and raw, stepping into yesterday’s trousers and tugging a fresh shirt over his head, ruffling his damp hair. 

  
For the first time since arriving, he was up in time to head to the restaurant to sit and eat breakfast, instead of having to make do with shovelling a cereal bar in his mouth. He told himself he wasn’t hoping to bump into Andrew, but from the second he entered the busy dining hall, he found himself scanning the room for a head of blond hair and a man dressed head to toe in black. 

  
The screeching of a dining chair being dragged across the wooden floor pulled him away from his search. 

  
“Your speech the other day needed some fine tuning, but overall, it wasn’t bad.” 

  
Neil didn’t even have to look up to know that Kevin Day had just taken the seat opposite.   
“Shut up.” Neil had spent too long working under him to take his shit. “You were proud of your former student and you know it.”

  
“You would have gotten there without me.” Kevin spoke as if it were a certainty, as though he couldn’t imagine any other kind of future for Neil that didn’t involve success. He meant it, but that didn’t make the words easier to take in, to believe. 

  
“I...thank you.” Neil didn’t know what to say, more used to Kevin's criticism than praise. He had been a hard supervisor to deal with, unwavering loyal, but also fierce in his determination that there were always ways to improve. 

  
Kevin took a sip of his water, placing the glass back down atop the white tablecloth. “Are you planning on working with Andrew now? I thought you hated each other.” He paused, face darkening as he circled a finger around the rim of the glass. “He wouldn’t work with me when I asked. How did you convince him?” 

  
Shaking his head, Neil said, “It isn’t like that. I offered, but he isn’t up for it.” He couldn’t stop the disappointment colouring his words. He took a bite of his breakfast to distract himself. “End of story.” 

  
He frowned. “Then why are you spending so much time together? I assumed you were making plans.” 

  
“Not everything is about work, Kevin.” The words were a surprise to both of them. He turned his attention back to his pate, stabbing mouthful of food onto his fork with more force than necessary. Changing the topic, feeling that someone had to warn him in case he didn’t know, Neil released a bomb he wished he didn’t have to. “Riko is here.” He looked back up, needing and fearing to see Kevin's reaction. 

  
Kevin paled, blood draining from his face as his fork clattered to the floor. A few other guests turned to stare at the commotion, but quickly lost interest. “I know.” His voice was strained. 

  
Neil let out a sigh. It would have surprised him if Kevin hadn’t known, the two had been inseparable since their early days as undergraduate students with nothing but grand ideas and a determined fire burning in their bellies. He skipped over the, “Are you okays?” and the, “Are you sures?” because it was obvious he was not. It would have been cruel to assume otherwise, to question him. Instea ge asked, “Have you seen him yet, spoken to him?”

  
Kevin’s eyes widened in horror, a hand clasped across his mouth as he shook his head. “Why would I?” He paused, then softly, “What would I even say to him?”

  
Neil's voice was deadly. “Oh, I dunno. Tell him to slither back to hell where he belongs? It’s what I would do.”

  
“Then,” Kevin gulped, “then you’re crazy.” 

  
Neil shrugged, an admission, or maybe he simply didn’t care. “Riko deserves it,” he said simply, as if that was all that mattered, as if that solved everything. “ I told you, that’s what I would do.”

  
“Don’t-" Kevin’s voice broke. “Please don’t.”

  
Neil sighed, and stabbed another bite of food onto his fork. “You have proof, don’t you? Proof that would destroy Riko.”

  
“It doesn’t matter, no one would listen to me.”

  
“Make them.” 

  
...  
“It's your speech later, isn’t it?” They were the first words out of Neil’s mouth when he flopped down on a chair next to Andrew, at the back of the conference hall. 

  
Andrew didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge his presence bar from a soft, “Hmm.” 

  
The hall was mostly empty, just beginning to fill with people for the first talk of the day. At the front, Kevin was already seated, still pale from their chat over breakfast, not his usual self as he listened to Jeremy chattering away. His entire body was tense, his hands gripped tight in his lap. Neil could see now that perhaps he had gone about things the wrong way earlier. He probably shouldn’t have been so confrontational. 

  
A hand waved in front of his face. “Neil, Earth to Neil.”

  
He blinked. “Huh?”

  
Beside him, Andrew’s eyes narrowed, causing a few lines to form across his forehead. “I asked you something. You didn’t reply.”

  
“Oh, sorry, I was miles away.” He tore his eyes away from the front of the room. “What was it?”

  
Andrew glanced over at Kevin, then back to Neil. “Nothing.” There was a tone of finality in his voice. 

  
“Then why bring it up?”

  
All he received in response was a stony stare. Sensing he wasn’t about to get an answer anytime soon, Neil changed the topic. “Your speech, do you want me there?”  
Andrew shrugged, fiddling with the black strap of his laptop bag sat nestled between his feet. He ran the shoulder strap through his fingers, slowly, before speeding up. 

  
“Well, I want to be there, is that ok?”

  
“What are you asking me for?”

  
Neil lowered his voice, as the man on stage, a researcher Neil hadn’t come across previously, with all the charisma of a blank sheet of paper, started droning on about something boring. “You might not want me there, we are rivals, after all.” 

  
“Glad to see you remember.” He smiled, and if Neil had been a different sort of person, if Andrew had been someone else, anyone else, and Neil had been anybody else, it might have registered as flirtatious. But Andrew was Andrew, and Neil was Neil, and they weren’t even friends, weren’t even anything. 

  
“Come, go, I don’t care either way.” He shot the man on stage a brief look of disgust. “Damn, this guy is so boring.” He made little effort to lower his voice, but from the back of the hall, which was mostly empty, it was likely only Neil heard him. Getting to his feet, he held out a hand to help Neil up. “I’m outta here, before I die of boredom.” His gaze flicked to Neil, to the hand outstretched between them. “You coming?”

  
Neil stared at the hand offered to him. Wordlessly, he took it, grasping it tightly as though it would disappear. There were no sparks, no electrified jolts fizzing through his veins like in the cheesy movies his friends favoured, but it was...nice. Andrew’s palm was warm and smooth, his fingers long and almost delicate as they curled around his own hand. Andrew released him in seconds, as soon as he was on his feet, his hand was gone, but the memory of his touch lingered long after they reached the roof. 

  
The city below was becoming a familiar sight, but Neil couldn’t focus on the forlorn remains of the rooftop pool, of the insignificant streets below with their insect people and their plastic toy cars. Andrew stood against the grey wall, leaning casually as he finished off his second cigarette, stomping it into the ground with a heavy boot. “Staring.” 

  
“Sorry,” Neil said, though he wasn’t sorry at all. Andrew looked almost beautiful against the grim backdrop of concrete, and the city skyline, encased in haze of dying smoke. He looked alive, a stark contrast against the bleak emptiness of the roof. “Huh.”

  
Neil supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, but he was. He had spent years obsessed with Andrew, well, his research. Following it, reading every last word and statistic, tearing it apart. Why shouldn’t that extend to the man himself? Though, he was slowly starting to feel that it had nothing to do with his work, but something else entirely. 

  
“Still staring.” Andrew snapped a hand in front of him. 

  
Neil shook his head, hoping that would clear away these alien thoughts, but knowing deep down that it wouldn’t. As if Andrew knew, he took a careful step forward, slow and deliberate. When Neil didn’t move, he took another. “Something you’d like to say to me?” His breath ticked his skin, raising goose bumps. 

  
“No,” Neil breathed. 

  
Andrew quirked an eyebrow. “Cat got your tongue?” 

  
“No,” Neil said defiantly, copying Andrew's step, inching slightly closer. He didn’t know what this was, he didn’t know what he was doing, what Andrew was thinking, but he knew he liked it. 

  
Andrew took another step forward. “Yes or no?” he breathed, inches away from his lips.   
Neil considered. Andrew was so close, so warm against the chill outside.

“Yes.” It sounded like a question. 

  
Andrew backed away, taking the warmth with him. “Confusion isn’t a yes. Neither is a mental breakdown or a sexuality crisis.” 

  
Neil’s head was spinning, the ground beneath his feet no longer stable. What had just happened? What had nearly happened? Andrew had been there, right there next to him, and then he was gone. Had they really been about to-? And had Neil really been about to let him? He snuck a look over at the other man, his fair hair ruffled from the wind, his eyes cautious as he looked at Neil. Yes, yes had been. 

  
“This isn’t a breakdown or whatever you think.”

  
“This is nothing,” Andrew corrected him, gesturing at the space between them with a pointed finger. 

  
“You don’t hate me, do you?”

  
This earned him an eye roll and a snort of indignation, but he saw through it. Saw the truth. Andrew didn’t hate him, not at all. Was irritated by him, maybe. But most of all he was curious, interested in him, attracted to him even, he realised with a shock. Neil didn’t really know what he should do with that new information, but he was starting to realise what he would like to do about it. 

  
“You like me. A little bit, at least."

  
“I hate you. A lot. Every damn inch of you."

  
“It’s nearly time for your speech.” Neil walked towards the doorway, not needing to look behind him to know that Andrew was watching him. He could feel his stare. It was a powerful feeling, a good feeling. “Are you coming?”

  
Slack jawed, Andrew followed him through the door and down the stairs. The hall was just starting to fill up again after the lunchtime break when they arrived. Recognising Andrew as the next speaker, a few stared as they entered, walking side by side.

  
As they approached their usual seats, Andrew paused, and Neil bid him a hasty, “Good luck,” before taking a chair. 

  
Andrew ignored the stares, clearly uncaring as to the impression he gave off with his wind ruffled hair, heavy black boots and look of pure disinterest as he separated from Neil and took towards the stage. On his way, Kevin stopped him, briefly whispering something in his ear. Neil assumed he was passing on a similar message. 

  
Andrew strode towards the steps and climbed onto the stage, where he fiddled with the microphone momentarily, and emptied his laptop from his bag and opening it up. Unlike most of the other speakers he remained silent throughout his setup, not sparing a simple greeting for the crowd. Not until he had the slides projected on the screen behind him did he even lift his head to look out at the sea of people spilling out across the rows and rows of seats. 

  
“If you’ve checked the schedule, you should know who I am.” 

  
It wasn’t the polite, friendly introduction that was traditional, but Neil preferred it, because it was real. And that was Andrew all over, real where others were fake. Honest where others hid behind a mask. He may have been slightly wound up before when he found out Andrew had known who he was on the plane, but Andrew hadn’t lied to him. Had Neil asked him sooner, he felt sure he would have told him. He liked knowing that. Andrew didn’t faff around with pretty metaphors and beautiful, but long-winded quotes and explanations. He opened his mouth and got to the point, said what had to be said and calmly exited the stage, as though he hadn’t just spoken in front of a crowd of dozens of experts far more experienced than himself. Andrew made it look effortless, easy, in a way Neil envied. 

  
“What a load of rubbish. Is this really the quality Palmetto is producing these days?” A cold voice sneered behind him, sending the hairs on the back of Neil's neck on edge. 

  
Swallowing back his irritation, Neil kept his eyes focused firmly on Andrew as he walked away from the stage, only to be caught by Kevin. It was working well, his plan to ignore Riko's existence, until he opened his mouth a second time. 

  
“I wonder how he managed to secure an invitation here in the first place.” Riko gestured at the hall around them. “I doubt it was his shoddy research that earned him his place.”

  
“Says the man who fiddles with his data, fraudulently reports his findings and plagiarises superior researcher’s work,” Neil spat viciously. _Oops._ Well, at least he tried. Riko continued as though Neil hasn’t spoken, but Neil couldn’t miss the nasty curl of his lip.

“If it was up to me-"

  
“Good thing it isn’t, then,” Neil retorted, his head snapping round so fast that he had to bite back a wince.

  
Riko smiled politely, and at that moment Neil thought he would trust a man eating tiger over him any day of the week.

“I was just saying-"

  
“I know what you were saying,” Neil spoke through gritted teeth, glaring at Riko. “That’s why I stopped you." Neil clenched his hands tightly in his lap. Andrew was still chatting with Kevin. That was good, it kept distance between Riko and Andrew. 

  
“I thought you were in agreement with me, you’ve spent enough time criticising his work.” His expression darkened, sending a sick fury through Neil’s veins. “Why the sudden change of heart?” 

  
“Still haven’t learned how to play well with others, Riko?” 

  
The crowds had spilled out now, leaving only the three of them left in the hall. Neil hadn’t heard Andrew approach, and judging by the look on his face, neither had Riko. “You’re one to talk.”

  
Andrew smiled, sickening and wide, all sharp, white teeth, his pink lips stretched out deliberately to show them off. “Shame I’m not in the mood to play or talk.” His eyes darted from Riko to the doorway. “Fuck off, Riko. You say one more word to Neil or to Kevin and the world will know what a fraud you are. Your choice.” The smile widened as he used his thumb to point towards the door. “I'd make it quickly.”

  
Riko scoffed. “You have no proof.”

  
From his laptop bag Andrew pulled out a smart black folder. It was thin, only a dozen or so sheets, but Kevin had been determined this time. Riko was going to pay. “Kevin does, though.” He waved the file in front of him, right under Riko’s arrogant nose. 

  
Riko paled, but wasn’t quite ready to back down yet. “Liar! Kevin would never. He knows where his loyalties lie.” 

  
“Yeah, not with you,” Neil said though a grin, folding his arms across his chest. 

  
Hands clenched, ready to lash out, Riko spat, “I’ll ruin you for this, you’ll never get another scrap of funding ever again.” 

  
A voice from behind them, low and shaky, but still there, said, “It’s over, Riko.”

  
Neil had never been prouder of someone in that moment, it was the most beautiful thing he had seen. Kevin stood there, hands shaking but head held high like a hero, staring Riko down. Then it was over. Riko lunged for Kevin, teeth bared in a scream, lashing out with hands clenched into claws, going in for the kill. 

  
_Thwack!_

He slunk to the floor, winded, groaning in pain and clutching at his midsection, just as a chair clattered beside him. Correction, that was the most beautiful sight Neil had ever seen. 

  
“You hit Riko with a chair!” Kevin's eyes were wide with horror, his own hands clutching his stomach as though the force of the chair had struck him too. 

  
Crouching down to his level, Andrew whispered menacingly in his ear, “Come near any of us again and it won’t be a chair.” 

  
...  
“I still can’t believe you did that.” 

  
They hadn’t hung around afterwards to hear Riko cursing them, vowing to make them pay. Kevin had made a mad dash back to his room to drown himself in a bottle of vodka, if you believed Andrew. Neil was slightly more optimistic. After all, never in a million years would he have expected Kevin to do what he had done this afternoon. 

  
“Did what? Oh,” Andrew said, exhaling a cloud of smoke, drawing the final word out. “You’re still going on about that. I think I preferred workaholic Neil.” 

  
Neil shook his head fondly, wondering just when exactly he had become so damn fond in the first place. Watching Andrew knock Riko down a peg or two had certainly contributed to that, but if he was being honest, it had started long before then. Maybe even before the plane, when they were just two almost strangers, connected only through their academic rivalry. 

  
“Tomorrow is the last day of the conference,” Neil said, leaning back against the wall behind them. He was aiming for casual, but he felt anything but, stood centimetres away from the man he had spent the past few years obsessed with and loathing in equal measures. 

  
“There it is.” 

  
Neil took a breath. Were his legs shaking from anxiety or the cold? Maybe both, he decided with a sinking feeling. Why was this so difficult? Right now, he missed the crowds and the judgement of dozens of scientists far more qualified than him. It shouldn’t be this hard, but then again, it wasn’t like he had much experience in this area. He hadn’t had the time to date since high school, too preoccupied with bigger and brighter things, and honestly, he had never been all that interested in anyone before. Not the girls from his classes, with their too sticky, painted on smiles, and not the boys, who never seemed to notice him anyway. Until now, he had been content with that, he never really noticed them either. 

  
But Andrew, he noticed Andrew. It was impossible not to. From the first line of his very first rebuttal against Neil's work, he had screamed, “Look at me,” and demanded Neil sit up and take notice, like it or not. 

  
“I’d like to keep in touch. If you’re interested.”  
If Dan or Matt were here, they’d slap him. Neil’s habit of dropping off of the face of the Earth regularly was the root of most of their arguments, and Neil had lost count of the times Matt had popped round at all hours of the day, just to see that Neil was still breathing, and all because he had forgotten to check his messages. He had only bought the damn phone because he had tired of their nagging. Yet here he was, volunteering to keep in contact. 

  
Andrew turned to face him, expression unreadable. Calmly, he held out his hand, palm upturned. 

  
It took Neil a moment to realise what he was asking for. Digging around in his pocket, Neil fished out his phone. “Here,” he said as he keyed in the unlock code (the date he became Dr. Neil Josten) and handed the device over.

  
Andrew silently tapped away at the screen, entering his details into the short contact list. Before returning it he used it to call himself, enabling him to save Neil's number for later. “Done.” He gave the phone back. 

  
Neil nodded his thanks and examined his new contact, mentally repeating the number twice. “Now instead of having to go through the trouble of writing up your complaints, you can just give me a call.” He hoped that wouldn’t be the only reason Andrew called him, but he would take it if it was. 

  
Neil took a deep breath, hoping it would have a calming effect. It didn’t. Not even close. “About what happened before-"

  
“Nothing happened.” There was a tone of finality in his voice, Neil didn’t like it. 

  
“I wasn’t having a breakdown.” Neil titled his body towards Andrew, who was watching him with a cautious look. He wasn’t backing away though, or telling Neil to stop. “I did want you to kiss me.” Neil mentally cursed himself for how the words spilled from his mouth, too fast and too eager. It would have been embarrassing if he hadn’t heard the way Andrew’s breath caught in his throat. “I was just surprised. I’m not very, well, I’m fairly new at this.” The words hung awkwardly between them. 

  
“You’re sure?” He sounded doubtful, but the subtle shift of his hips as he moved ever so slightly closer was hopeful. “If you’re not, then-“

  
Neil interrupted abruptly. “I am.” He lifted his head to meet Andrew’s eyes. “If you are.”

  
Andrew moved slowly, so, so slowly, gradually narrowing the space between them. Neil's heart was already thudding erratically, bashing against his ribcage like it wanted to escape. He’d kissed people before, not many, granted, as he’d never seen the appeal, but it had never been like this. It had always been to dry or too sloppy, awkward and clumsy from lack of interest on his part.

This was different, this was something more. Andrew's mouth was hot, demanding a response, but his hands- one tucked up in his hair and the other stroking across his shoulder-were soft. Neil wanted to reach out, pull him closer, until there was nothing between them, but he didn’t quite dare, didn’t know if it would be welcome. 

  
“Here, only here,” Andrew breathed against his lips, as if he could read his mind. Capturing his mouth again, Andrew took his trembling hands from where they lay forgotten in his lap, and placed them at the back of his head. 

  
The hair gripped between his fingers was soft, he wanted to use it to keep Andrew’s mouth against his forever. Neil whined when he pulled away, but let him go, hands dropping back down to his lap. Neil’s head was spinning, but it wasn’t as unpleasant as it sounded. 

  
Gasping for breath, he let his head fall back against the wall behind them. “Does that mean you'll call me?” 

  
Andrew rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he tried to steady his breathing. While he wasn’t as worked up as Neil, it was good to know that he had some effect on Andrew.   
On the way back to their hotel rooms, Neil insisted that they poke their heads round and check on Kevin. Neil had only heard bits and pieces of the story of Kevin’s life at Edgar Allan, but it was enough. While he had more faith in his ability to avoid drinking himself into oblivion than Andrew did, he knew he could use a friendly face right about now. Andrew didn’t put up a fight, and followed behind him. 

  
“Kevin, it’s us,” Neil called out before knocking sharply on the door, thinking it best to announce their arrival before banging in the door. No doubt Kevin was half expecting Riko to drop by. “You ok in there?”

  
When this received no response, Andrew shoved him out of the way. “Open the door. Neil wants to know you’re not lying face down in a pool of your own vomit.”

  
“Very funny.” The door opened halfway to reveal a dishevelled, but vomit free Kevin. His hair stood on end, as if he had spent the evening tugging on it, pulling it every which way. “Who invited you?” A faint scent of alcohol wafted from him, but there was only one empty bottle abandoned on the table, which Neil felt he was entitled to. 

  
“You ok?” Neil asked. 

  
It hadn’t always been in his nature to show genuine concern towards others, but Neil felt indebted to Kevin. Without him, he would never have gotten this far. 

  
“As well as can be expected after today.”

  
“You told Riko to go to hell.” He grinned. “It was amazing.”

  
Andrew, who until now had watched the exchange silently, decided to contribute something to the conversation. “Nice to see there is a working spine in there somewhere. I was beginning to think yours was just for decoration.”

  
“Andrew,” Kevin began with a polite smile that neither of them trusted, “fuck off.” 

  
The walk back from Kevin’s room at the end of the second floor hallway to the elevator was long and silent. Andrew reached out and pressed the button, calling the elevator down to them and followed Neil inside. 

  
“Floor?” Neil asked, pressing his floor, hand hovering over the panel. Andrew batted his hand away and pressed the button. 

  
The space air inside the tiny elevator was too thin, the space too tight. The walls on both sides of them were mirrored, Neil caught Andrew’s eyes in their reflection. Ordinarily, he hated being enclosed in a tight space like this, with the doors locked around him and no escape until they opened again. Tonight, with Andrew next to him, escaping was the last thing on his mind. 

  
Andrew edged towards him, capturing his face between his hands, and leant in. “Ye-"  
“Yes,” Neil answered before he could ask. “It’s always going to be.”

  
“Don’t,” Andrew said, jabbing him in the chest with a pointed finger, “give me that crap. You sound so presumptuous. What makes you so sure,” he bent his head to press a barely there kiss against his neck, “that this will continue once the conference is over?” 

  
Neil sucked in a deep breath. “I’m not, I just want it to.” He reached out to grab the back of Andrew’s head to pull him back down, remembering a half a second later that he hadn’t been invited to. His hands dropped back down to his sides, his fingernails digging into his thighs as he fought to keep them still as Andrew kissed his way along his neck, up his jaw, his mouth. 

  
The doors pinged open too soon, drawing a muttered curse from Neil and a low chuckle from Andrew. He watched Andrew exit the elevator, taking the moment to catch his breath. 

  
“Staring. Again. It’s getting annoying.” 

  
“Like I said before,” Neil said though a smile, dragging a shaking finger across his mouth, following the trail Andrew had mapped out, “I’m really starting to doubt you when you say things like that.” 

  
“Your delusions are not my fault.”

  
Before he could say anything else, the elevator doors closed once again, taking Neil up to his floor. Tomorrow was the last day of the conference, and he was exhausted. He should be asleep by the time his head hit the pillow, but he couldn’t settle. His skin burned wherever Andrew had touched it, the memory of his lips seared into his flesh. With a jolt, Neil realised it would kill him to say goodbye tomorrow. 

  
...  
Andrew woke before dawn on the final day of the conference, after a fitful night of interrupted sleep. What little rest he did manage had been haunted by icy blue eyes and a tangle of auburn hair. Neil Josten. Andrew should have known better. He had known better, in fact, and yet here he was. Stupid, he was such an idiot. His plane would be leaving this evening and he would never have to see him again. That was good, sensible. That was fine, what he had planned all along. Well, not quite. He had never planned on this, this reluctant involvement.

It was going to be fine though. New plan. He would finish the conference and he and Neil would their separate ways, go back to how it was before. And in spite of himself, in spite of his brain telling him he should know better, he had no intention of following through with that new plan. Damn it. What was wrong with him? 

  
He forced his aching body upright, head fuzzy from lack of sleep. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Couldn’t put his finger on what exactly made Neil so different. He shouldn’t have given him the time of day, shouldn’t have spoken to him, let alone spent hours playing hooky together up on the roof. Certainly shouldn’t have kissed him. _Twice._ He ran a finger along his mouth, staring blankly at his fingers as he pulled them away as if they could offer some kind of explanation for his behaviour. For his lapse of judgment. As expected, they didn’t. He shoved the offending hand back under the covers in disgust. This wasn’t like him at all.

Maybe it was the way Neil had stood up to Riko, like so few had the guts to do, or maybe it was the way he had listened to him last night, not taken more than he was invited to. Or maybe it had started before they had even met, when Neil was just Dr. Josten, the researcher behind the screen who challenged him at every step. 

  
The man was determined and reckless and seriously lacking in the common sense department, but instead of being unbearably irritating, it was almost admirable, in a strange way. Neil wasn’t willing to sit back and let others walk over him, or anyone else he seemed important to him. It didn’t matter how high and mighty they thought they were.

  
Grudgingly, Andrew could respect that. People had tried to walk over his family more than once. First Aaron and then Nicky. Well, he had put a stop to that. He saw to it that nobody would ever raise a hand to his brother again, or say a single bigoted word against Nicky, blood or not. Blood didn’t matter in the end, not really. Andrew didn’t protect his brother or his cousin because they were blood, but because they were family. And that wasn’t the same thing. They weren’t family because they were blood, they were family because he had chosen to protect them. Chosen to protect them because no one had ever been there to protect him. 

  
Andrew swung his legs over the side of the bed. He certainly wouldn’t miss that lumpy mattress. “Four-star hotel, my ass,” he grumbled softly to himself as he straightened up, stretching out his arms above his head. He knew he wasn’t likely to sleep better on his overnight flight, but at least that would mean he would be one step closer to home. He didn’t plan on leaving again any time soon. 

  
He was one of the first guests in the restaurant that morning, which meant he had the full pick of the breakfast food on offer. He wasn’t hungry, but eating would give him something to do with himself until the conference began at nine, so he piled his plate with a selection of the pastries on offer. He selected a seat near the back of the room, with a clear view of the entrance. He saw Kevin stumble in at twenty past eight, unsteady on his feet and looking rather like a zombie from a cheap direct to T.V horror movie. It would have been polite to wave, been the decent thing to do to go over and say hi, ask how he was doing. He did neither, but kept an eye on him as he gathered his food and fell into a seat at the other end of the room. Neil followed soon after. Andrew watched as he grabbed a mug of coffee, a plate of toast and an apple, before heading over. 

  
“Been here long?” Neil walked over with his plate and took the spare seat across the table, because of course he did. He was becoming very predictable, and Andrew was somewhat taken aback to find he didn’t mind it. He gestured to Andrew's plate, empty save for a few flakes and the last few bites of a pastry. 

  
Andrew shrugged in response, before tearing the remains of his breakfast in two. “I was up earlier than your zombie friend over there.” He pointed in Kevin’s general direction with a lazy hand. He shovelled the last bites of pastry into his mouth, chewing quickly, before washing them down with a swig of juice. 

  
“Oh shit!” Neil exclaimed with a grin, turning round in his seat to look. “Kevin isn’t human when he’s tired. I made the mistake of emailing once about my thesis after I pulled an all nighter.” He paused to take a bite of his toast, coated generously with jam. “His reply was barely English, but the fuck you was clear enough.” 

  
“So, just like normal, Kevin, then?”

  
Neil shrugged, grinning around the toast in his mouth. “He's the best, though,” he said, as if that justified all sins, sleep deprived bitchiness and general assholery included. 

  
“Why aren’t you sitting at his table bothering him, then?” Andrew folded his arms atop the table, wrinkling the pristine tablecloth. “I'm sure there’s some tiny part of the brain you two can geek out over before we have to head over to the conference.” Taking two fingers, he tapped the side of his head thrice. “Like the region associated with obsession, perhaps.” 

  
“Why,” Neil begun, licking a dab of jam from his lips, “are you jealous?” The idea was insane, would have been laughable, really, expect there was something in Andrew's expression that said otherwise. “I thought this,” he gestured between the two of them, “was nothing. Thought you didn’t like me.” 

  
Andrew stared at him. “It is. And I don’t. Keep up.” He reached out and took a gulp of his drink, draining the glass. “Doesn’t mean I like to share.” 

And with that, he pushed his abandoned plate into the centre of the table, got to his feet, and walked away, leaving Neil, surprised, and with the beginnings of a tiny smile, behind him. 

  
...  
Neil didn’t bother to check the conference hall first, deciding he would have better luck trying the roof. He raced up the stairs as quickly as his legs could manage, which, despite his short legs, was pretty damn fast. He would have taken them two at a time if they weren’t so steep, or if he was just that little bit taller. By the time he reached the top, Andrew was already finishing off his first smoke, crushing the cigarette beneath his feet as he went about lighting the second.  
Andrew didn’t look up when he heard the door slam, but he did hold out the cigarette carton and lighter. 

  
“It’s weird to think that we won’t be back here tomorrow.” Neil had many expectations about the conference before he got on his flight a few days ago, some good and some bad. He never could have imagined this. If someone had told him he would be reluctant to leave, all because of the man stood in front of him, he would have laughed. He certainly would never have imagined himself happily skipping half of the conference in favour of sitting on a grungy old roof, poisoning his lungs with smoke and chatting away with his sworn academic enemy. 

  
Neil accepted the cigarette and sat down at Andrew’s feet. After a moment, he joined him, sitting too far for their thighs to brush, but close enough that Neil could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. It was nice, a protective barrier against the chill of the air.

“Can I ask you something?” 

  
Andrew hummed in response, taking a long drag. “You already have.”

  
“Something else.” Neil rolled his eyes. “Smart ass.” It sounded more like a compliment than a childish insult. 

  
He shrugged. “I’m listening. Try and be interesting enough to keep it that way,” Andrew said, as if Neil hadn’t been interesting enough since day one. 

  
“I’m already more interesting than the conference,” he reminded him. “Why neuroscience, anyway?” It was a question that had been on the tip of his tongue for days, since he met Andrew and realised who he was. Even since before that. He acted indifferent, but that didn’t make sense, not when you looked at all he had achieved.

  
Andrew stiffened. Just for a moment, but it was enough. “It was better than the alternative, I suppose.”

  
“Which was?” Neil prompted. 

  
He remained silent. Neil didn’t need to know about thirteen-year-old Andrew and the tiny seven year old girl he briefly shared a foster family with. Unlike him, she spent some time with her birth parents, and when she was even smaller than when he met her, the bastards had beaten her till her brain screamed. The damage was long lasting and severe. He didn’t need to know about the Andrew of just a few years later, about the way he would curl himself up at night and stare at his reflection in the mirror, and wonder just what the fuck had gone wrong inside his head. He didn’t need to know about how Andrew both loved and hated his brain, for its insistence to keep him on his feet after everything, for the way it refused to let him forget a single second of what had happened to him. 

  
He had wanted to understand it, learn how it worked, how it didn’t. He had known he wouldn’t hack medical school, even his brother ‘s bedside manner was superior, and nobody in their right mind would trust him for medical advice, or with a scalpel in hand. So he settled for neuroscience, trying to figure out how a lump of grey squishy crap that could fit in the palm of your hands could make or break a person. 

  
Which was a good thing, really. He hadn’t been all that interested in medicine in the first place, and he wouldn’t have been able to cope with all the idiots that walked in, thinking they knew better because of Dr. Google or some washed up celebrity spouting some crap about the tremendous healing powers of rose quartz or stinking gloop. He would have had even less patience for the parents of kids that came in too frequently, with too many bruises and breaks to be accidental. But a doctor with a penchant for ripping abusers to shreds was a struck off and imprisoned one, which Andrew could never get on board with. 

  
Sensing he wasn’t about to get an answer, Neil supplied his own. He didn’t know what made him do it, not really, but he felt Andrew should know, while there was still time to walk away without leaving devastation and heartbreak in his wake.

“I didn’t originally have a clue what I wanted to do with my life, other than live it.” He shuffled his feet, and looked away. This was going to be a tough enough topic as it was, he didn’t need to see Andrew's face as spoke. He felt that Andrew deserved something though, he had clearly touched on something if his own he would have rather remained buried. “I never expected to get into college, wasn’t exactly encouraged to.” 

  
That was an understatement if ever there was one. His mother had slapped him the first time he asked why he didn’t get to go to school like the other kids. He was nine. And his father, well, the less said about him the better. When he died, all Neil had left to remember him was the scars etched into his skin. He had tried to take his mother with him. He had cried for him, but only because he felt guilty for not being able to summon any tears in the first place. Neil could still hear her cries now, gasping for air as he choked the life from her body.

  
Neil took a deep breath. “Certain events,” he started, then paused again. Events like watching your mother suffer hypoxia and subsequent brain injury due to strangulation at your fathers’ hand, that shit stayed with you. For years it was all he saw every time he closed his eyes. “My parents deaths made that possible.” 

  
She must have been planning on leaving him, because when she died shortly afterwards, Neil inherited a small fortune. For the first time in his life, he had the freedom to live his life according to his rules. So he worked his ass off and got accepted into a decent school. The fact that he eventually wound up studying the brain, after watching his mother in her last days struggling with her damaged one, which had finally allowed him a life of his own, well, there was a twisted irony in that. The guilt had been enough to make him almost drop out a number of times during his undergraduate studies, but it was easier now. She might not have wanted this life for him, but the only one she could offer was worthless to him. He'd rather be rotting in the ground with them if he couldn’t be Neil Josten, if he had to remain the twisted shell of a human his father had strived to warp him into. 

  
“There’s more to your story than that,” Andrew stated knowingly, staring at Neil through sharp eyes.

  
He shrugged. “Possibly.” But he wasn’t ready to share that yet. With a jolt, he realised that he wanted to one day, that the idea of opening up to Andrew about everything, about his past, his family and the person he used to be, didn’t scare him as much as it should. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased, and it was easy, so damn easy to be here like this, with Andrew. It shouldn’t be, but it was. He was surprised to find he liked it. 

  
...  
Kevin was closing the conference with his talk on elite athletes, spatial memory and the brain regions involved in that. Andrew wasn’t particularly interested, had never really cared that much for team sport, despite a brief stint as an exy goalkeeper in his youth, but Neil was so excited he couldn’t sit still. He kept shuffling in his seat as he waited for it to begin, tapping his leg rapidly until it got on Andrew's last nerves. Thankfully, he calmed down when Kevin took to the stage, sitting stock still, entranced by what the older researcher had to say. 

  
Andrew watched him more than Kevin, watched the awe on his face, the ways his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed as he listened raptly as Kevin worked the stage like he was born for it. In a way, he had been. His father had been a major player in the field, and Kevin had been attending his lectures since before he could walk. Before his mother had died, he had hoped to become an exy star, like her, but her sudden death when he was a child cast a gloomy shadow over that. He had never told anyone that, but it was easy enough to figure it out if you paid enough attention. Andrew had, but not many others bothered to waste their energy. So Kevin had aimed to take after his father instead, the wound she left behind too raw for him to deal with. 

  
“As you can see from recent fMRI scans...”

Kevin droned on and on, pointing to an image taken from his recent study projected onto the screen behind him. He whizzed through the following slides, each depicting images taken from different views of the brain, highlighting enthusiastically the different areas that the scanner had picked up on as using more oxygen during the experiment, indicating that those regions were involved in the task. It was expertly done, the perfect introduction to his work, and everyone else seemed captivated. “Of course, the downside is that functional imaging can’t tell us whether these regions are necessary for spatial memory tasks, only that they are involved...” 

  
Yeah, obviously. Andrew rolled his eyes. Any undergrad psych student should be able to tell you that. Causal inference, functional imaging methods didn’t allow for that. He was surprised Kevin was even wasting his time on something so obvious, unless he was trying to show off that he knew everything about this method, from the complex right back down to the basic. Which wouldn’t be too surprising. Among his circle, which Andrew grudgingly counted himself among, Kevin wasn’t exactly known for his humility. 

  
Andrew zoned out again, his attention only captured momentarily due to the sharp intake of breath coming from beside him when Kevin showed what he assumed must have been, for Neil anyway, a particularly fascinating slide. He relaxed further in his seat, acutely aware of how little rest he had managed last night. His entire body was crying out for sleep.

  
Beside him, Neil tore his attention away from the stage long enough to offer him an encouraging smile, and a soft, “You alright?” 

  
Andrew waved him off. “I’m tired, not dying,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Neil to hear. 

  
“-you very much. Are there any questions?”   
Andrew zoned back in just in time to hear the end of the talk, to see Kevin finish up with his perfect smile, one specially reserved for moments such as this. As the hall filled with the sound of applause, only two pairs of hands remained silenced. Andrew's lay still in his lap, while in the final row, Riko, his face raging with fury, kept his firmly clenched. He left part way through the questions, letting the door slam behind him with a thud that startled the other attendees. Kevin flinched, but if anyone other than Neil or Andrew noticed, they weren’t willing to acknowledge it. 

  
...  
“So,” Neil said from his seat across from Andrew. They were in hotel lobby this time, tucked away in a quiet, dimly lit corner. It was more cramped than the roof, louder and full of strangers. “You flying out tonight, too?”

  
They’d never return to the roof, their roof. Neil missed it already, compared to this bustling lobby, the dingy hotel roof with its abandoned pool, growing over with gunge and filth, was practically a haven of peace and quiet. The lobby was prettier, that much was obvious. The red carpeted floor was spotless, despite the traffic through it, the walls coated with cream paper, accented with golden frames and pretentious artwork. Neil had been almost afraid to sit on the chair, so had perched on the edge of it instead, precariously balanced and half expecting to fall off any moment. It was soulless, empty despite being full of guests. 

  
“Why, planning to keep following me?” 

  
“Just making conversation.” Neil shuffled his feet, his shoes knocking against his duffel bag. He hadn’t bothered with a suitcase, he could manage to fit a months’ worth of stuff in a single bag, so he hadn’t seen the point in wasting precious energy dragging one around. “Besides, I don’t think catching my planned flight technically counts as stalking. Sorry to disappoint, but my entire life doesn’t revolve around you.”

  
Andrew let out a yawn. “The way you’ve been behaving all week,” he said, slipping his phone from his pocket to glance at the time, “you could’ve fooled me.” 

  
Neil stared him directly in the eye, silently willing him to stop his bullshit. “You never told me to fuck off.” Softly, he added, “I would have done, if you’d asked.”

  
“Eight thirty,” Andrew offered, to Neil's confusion. 

  
“Are you just spouting random nonsense to get me to shut up now?” 

  
“Wouldn’t work.” Andrew shook his head, slowly, as if he couldn’t believe how stupid Neil was being. “You asked if I was flying home tonight,” he explained monotonously, nudging the black case at his feet with his foot. “I thought that would have been obvious, but I’m learning you can be incredibly unobservant.” 

  
Neil huffed. “I’m exhausted.”

And really, it was unfair to expect him to pay attention to anything else when Andrew was right next to him. He had changed out of his clothes from the conference, dark trousers and a black button up shirt, into something more casual for the long journey home. Even in sweatpants and a worn hoodie, he still managed to look better than the the hotel guests in all their finery as they headed out for the evening.

“The eight thirty from Heathrow to Columbia?” Neil asked, trying to work out what the faded lettering on his hoodie said, an old band name, perhaps? 

  
“No, the eight thirty from Paris to New York,” he deadpanned. “What do you think? I work at Palmetto State. And we’re currently in London.” He gestured to the hotel entrance, where a set of plaques, hung on both sides of the doorway, welcomed guests to the Hotel Eden, London. There was another pair of signs on the other side, bidding them goodbye. 

  
It was funny, really. Neither had ever really considered how close they worked to each other, never thought about the fact that they were living within the same state. Considering the enormity of America, and the fact that Neil had spent much of his childhood travelling, from the US to the UK and the rest of Europe, it was an unlikely coincidence they wound up so close. Andrew at Palmetto, Neil at the university in Columbia. If Renee was here, she might call it fate, not a coincidence, if she was feeling particularly sentimental or stupid. Andrew didn’t believe in either. Life was life, shit just happened without rhyme or reason. 

  
They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching as new guests arrived and old ones checked out, all lugging their cases behind them. Some looked excited to be here, while others, weary from their journey, simply looked relieved. Either way, none of them paid them any attention.

  
Perhaps, unsurprisingly, Neil was the first to break the quiet. “I called for a car to take me to the airport.” They still had a few hours to kill, but Neil hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and the hotel restaurant had been booked for dinner, something his empty stomach was still protesting. “I couldn’t get an early enough reservation here, so I thought I’d head over early and grab something to eat there.” 

  
Andrew raised an eyebrow. Neil couldn’t be certain in this light, but it looked as if there was a scar through it. Small and barely noticeable, which made it more likely to come from a rejected or removed piercing than a fight. Though, he couldn’t entirely rule that out either. The way Andrew watched the world, the way he had instinctively reacted when Riko lunged for Kevin, told him Andrew was no stranger to violence. 

  
“And?” He was going to make him say it. 

  
Neil’s chain jutted out, determined. “If you’re not hungry, that’s fine. I just thought it might be nice to get something to eat together before we caught our flight.” 

  
He said nothing, but when the taxi arrived a few minutes later, he wordlessly got to his feet and followed Neil to the car. They dumped their bags in the trunk and climbed into the back seat, taking a window each and leaving the middle space free. Their driver was the quiet, unfriendly sort, which suited them fine. They rode in silence through the heaving streets, silently saying their goodbyes to the world they had watched from afar, atop the rooftop. 

  
The airport was packed, even though it was early evening, one of those few places that never really slept. They pushed their way through, with Neil keeping a careful eye on the time. As soon as they were able, they found the nearest place to eat, too hungry in Neil's case, and too wound up thinking about the upcoming flight, in Andrew’s, to be too choosy. 

  
“Hurry up and choose, already, or I’ll do it for you,” Andrew threatened Neil as they took another step towards the counter, just as the person in the line in front of them cursed at the wait. The restaurant, like everywhere else in the forsaken place, was full of people, but there was a small table for two tucked in the corner out of the way that Andrew had his eye on, provided nobody beat them to it. If they did, anxious and hungry as he was, he was half tempted to kick them out of it. His exhaustion from earlier had lapsed, fended off by the anxiety polluting his body, keeping him on edge. 

  
“I think I’ll have a coffee and...” he paused to look at the screen again displaying the menu. “The salad.”

  
Andrew scoffed and shook his head sharply. “Try again. It’s a long flight, and I’m not spending it listening to your stomach.” 

  
Neil sighed. “Fine.” Andrew was right, he supposed, but that didn’t mean he was about to tell him as much. He selected something else Andrew would approve off, a toasted wrap of some kind, with the salad on the side and some fries. He opted out of a desert, which he could tell Andrew neither approved of or understood. 

  
The table was still available when they were finished ordering, which was just as well, because Andrew’s mood and hunger was making him even less friendly than usual. He had grabbed a slice of chocolate cake to keep him company while they waited for their meals. He would probably regret it when it came to take off and his stomach was performing flips and turns that would make a trained acrobat green with envy, but for now he was determined to enjoy the sweet. 

  
“Don't make yourself sick.” Neil watched as he dug his fork into the soft chocolate sponge, the cake oozing chocolate ganache. 

  
“Don’t worry,” Andrew said, pausing to lick the crumbs from his mouth, the sudden pink of his tongue darting out doing things to Neil that he forced himself to ignore. “If I do hurl, I’ll try to avoid your head.”

  
Neil rolled his eyes but didn’t look away. They ate in relative silence when their food arrived, Neil’s few attempts to strike up a conversation quickly shot down. He knew better than to take it personally, judging by the way Andrew only picked at his meal, the other man was starting to feel anxious over their upcoming flight. It could have been the rich cake he had scarfed down beforehand, but his free hand was clenched tightly on top of the table and there were faint worry lines creasing his forehead as he frowned. 

  
Neil checked the time. “We should probably think about leaving in a minute,” he said softly, laying his fork down. 

  
Andrew hummed in response. 

  
This flight was no less crowded than their one earlier in the week, despite the time. People travelling for work, Neil assumed. He shuffled in his seat to find a more comfortable position. It would make for an uncomfortable journey if his butt was already going to sleep, before they even took off. Relaxing back into his seat with a sigh, he peered at Andrew out of the corner of his eye.

  
He looked far less relaxed, hands once again curled into tight fists resting atop his knees, while his left foot tapped impatiently. His mouth was pressed tightly into a thin, miserable line, his entire body on edge. A book, a different one to the one on the previous flight, lay abandoned in his lap. The dark framed reading glasses had made a reappearance, perched on the edge of his nose. They softened his face, Neil thought, smoothed out some of the harsher angles of his cheekbones and strong jaw, making him look younger, somehow. 

  
As the plane began to move, he froze, his eyes staring straight ahead, eyes narrowed slits as he focused on the back of the woman's head in the seat in front. Neil watched from the window as they began their ascent, watching until the world below became nothing but a distant memory. 

  
“Is it the heights or the fear of falling that gets you?” He turned back to face Andrew. He looked slightly more at ease now that they were no longer climbing higher. His knuckles were no longer white and he was tapping his fingers along the cover of his novel, though there was still a tenseness to the set of his jaw that made Neil's stomach twist. 

  
Andrew shot him a scathing look. “I don’t like flying,” was the only answer on offer. 

  
Neil accepted that and quickly changed the subject, returning to work related topics, as Andrew suspected he would. “I never got the chance to tell you what I thought about your lecture before Riko decided to run his mouth.”

  
“What makes you think I care?”   
Neil took a deep breath and continued as if he hadn’t heard his dismissal. “I thought you were amazing.” 

  
It was clear from his tone of voice, from the obvious admiration lighting his eyes, that he wasn’t just referring to the speech. He was talking about the way he put Riko in his place, stood up for Kevin, the kisses, the secrets shared and the trust extended. And the speech, of course, which had been nothing short of incredible. It was clear from Andrew’s face, from the way the tension in his body reduced just that little bit, that he knew all of that. 

  
“Save the compliments for somebody who wants them to stroke his ego.” 

  
Neil knew that Andrew didn’t need or even want his compliments, but he would gladly give them anyway. “I’m not interested in propping up someone’s ego. If I was, I probably wouldn’t dislike Riko so much.” 

  
That earned him a laugh, a brief, dry chuckle that lacked much in the way of true joyful amusement, but it warmed him to hear all the same. “Liar,” he accused. “You don’t dislike him, you loathe him with everything you’ve got.” His tone was far from critical, his approval as clear as the nose on his face. “If he was on fire and you had a glass of water, you’d drink it. You could never like him.”

  
“I was trying to be polite,” Neil retorted with a shockingly out of place, innocent smile. 

  
“That’s new for you.” 

  
“What can I say?” The smile broadened, stretching from ear to ear, widening into something that suited him better. “I tried. It’s not my fault it was unsuccessful.”

  
The corner of his mouth twitched. “That bastard doesn’t deserve it.” He paused, staring him directly in the eye. “It doesn’t suit you anyway.” 

  
Neil shrugged. He wasn’t raised to be polite, so it was no great surprise that it didn’t come easy to him. Even when he most needed them, his manners often failed him. “I’m done about Riko. He can rot.” 

  
Andrew hummed in agreement, a darkness clouding over his features. Neil suspected his brain was running through every last little piece of hell Riko had put Kevin through. “If you start on about work again, I’ll push you out the door.” 

  
Neil threw his head back and laughed once. “They don’t open during flight. Safety, have you heard of it?” 

  
“Shame,” he muttered. 

  
“Anyway,” Neil paused, laughing at the mental image he conjured up, “I’m pretty sure you'd be arrested for trying.” 

  
Andrew’s blank expression didn’t change, the thought clearly not of any great concern. With a shrug, he said, “And?” Closing his eyes, he lay his head back against his seat. 

  
“What plans do you have for when you get back?”

  
Eyes remaining firmly shut, he grumbled. “I knew I should have pushed you off that roof when I had the chance.”

  
“Well, you didn’t. That’s your mistake.”

  
“Yes,” Andrew agreed. “A rather annoying one.” His eyes opened as he sat forward, turning to glower at Neil, who was entirely unbothered, judging by the amusement in his eyes, toying with the corners of his mouth. 

  
“If I’m such a pain, then why did you kiss me? Twice,” he added smugly. 

  
“How someone as obtuse as you ever become a professor, I’ll never know,” said Andrew with a heavy sigh. “You don’t learn, do you?”

  
Neil shrugged the harsh words off with ease, used to worse, and confident he didn’t really mean them. “I have a PhD that says otherwise, so I think I learn just fine.”

  
“We've been over this, it was nothing.” 

  
“Sure, I’m nothing.” He titled his head. “Just like your work means nothing to you, right?” 

  
“Oh.” His eyes widened. “You can be taught.” With a dramatic eye roll, Andrew shook his head. 

  
“My earlier offer is still there, in case you change your mind. I only have one project I’m working on at the minute, so I could make the time.”

  
“How nice.” Sarcasm laced his voice. “I won’t.” He picked up the forgotten novel in his lap and opened it to the halfway point. A simple, black paper bookmark sat nestled between the pages. Andrew wrapped his pale fingers around it and removed it, placing it between his knees. 

  
“Ok, I’m not going to make you. I just thought it would be a good way to put the argument to rest once and for all. See which one of us is right.” Plus, I’d get to spend more time with you. He didn’t voice that thought, but judging by the subtle way his eyes widened behind his glasses, Andrew heard the unspoken words all the same. 

  
“You're a nightmare.” He shook his head again, a gesture that seemed more fond than irritated. 

  
“Not the first person to tell me that.” 

  
“Why,” Andrew said with a snort, “does that not surprise me?” He finished through a yawn that Neil felt in his bones. It really had been a long day, and an even longer week. 

  
_Because you’re smart, because you know me._ It should have been terrifying, but somehow it wasn’t. “Did you want to get some rest? I can shut up now if you’re tired.” 

  
Andrew didn’t sleep on planes, didn’t sleep in places he didn’t trust, full stop. But he was exhausted, his conversation with Neil beating back the worst of the terror racing through his veins, and his eyelids ached with the weight of his lack of sleep. He lifted his gaze from the book, from the swimming words he hadn’t been taking in anyway, and turned to face Neil. 

  
“I highly doubt that. It hasn’t happened so far.” But he put his book down, folded his glasses up and tucked them into the neck of his shirt to keep them safe, and closed his eyes. 

  
It was only when Andrew's breathing slowed that Neil realised just how knackered he was himself. He hadn’t realised it at the time, but he had been spending the last hour or so fighting off sleep in order to keep talking with Andrew. He tore his eyes away from his sleeping form and finally allowed his own eyes to slip shut. The last thoughts crossing his mind before drifting off contained blond hair, golden eyes and the soft sounds of the gentle snores coming from the seat next to him. He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t planned on it or even wanted it, but Neil was starting to realise that there was nothing he could do about it either. He was falling for Andrew. 

  
...  
Three years (and a research publication) later 

  
“-Drew? Andrew?” Neil called softly as he entered the bedroom -their bedroom, as of one year ago – and sat the steaming mug of hot chocolate down on Andrew's side of the bedside table. He perched at bottom of the bed, careful to avoid the pile of blankets that must be his boyfriend. Andrew could be vicious without his fix in the morning. Neil had learnt a long time ago that waking Andrew at this god awful time in the morning often required some sort of peace offering. 

  
“Fuck off,” mumbled the heap buried underneath the blankets, a pale arm appearing briefly to swat at the thin air next to Neil's face. 

  
Neil snorted, and ducked the half-hearted attack. “Good morning to you, too. Get up,” he said, tugging at the bottom of the covers.

“First day of the new semester.” 

  
“I don’t give a shit.” He moved, but only to roll over, pulling the blankets with him, as he turned his back to Neil, grumbling indecipherably under his breath. 

  
A clear sign of trust if ever there was one. It had taken both of them time to adjust to living together, though the last few months Neil spent crashing at Andrew's every other weekend prior to the move had helped make the transition easier. When a space for another professor to join Palmetto's neuroscience department had opened up, owing to the new module they would be offering to final year students, Neil had jumped at the chance. It had been Andrew who had informed him of the opening, though he still blamed it on a moment of madness. Neil hadn’t known what to expect when he opened the email, tagged only with the subject line, junkie, look at this, but it hadn’t been a Palmetto State application form. With a few kind words here and there from Kevin, Neil's new life was sealed. 

  
Originally, Neil had planned to get his own place upon moving. It was only when Andrew looked at him like he was even more of an idiot than usual for mentioning looking at apartment listings, that it all clicked into place inside his head. Andrew wanted them to live together. Over a year later and he could still feel the excitement and warmth buzzing through him whenever he remembered that moment of realisation. Now, Neil had successfully managed to last a whole year of working there and was looking forward to starting back after the summer break. If he could ever convince Andrew to get up, that was. 

  
“Drinks on the table.” Andrew didn’t need telling, it was the same as every other weekday morning. Neil would wake an hour earlier (inhumanely, early, in Andrew’s humble opinion), go for a jog (something he really didn’t understand) around the block and pop in with a hot drink for Andrew, before hopping into the shower. Sometimes, Andrew would join him, on the days they didn’t have such an early start. 

  
By the time Neil returned ten minutes later, with a simple white towel draped around his neck, catching the drops from his hair, Andrew was sitting up with his mug in hand, looking groggy and mildly pissed off, but awake. 

  
“Why did I think being a professor was the right line of work?” he asked through a yawn, his sleep mussed hair making him look softer than usual. 

  
Adorable, in Neil's opinion. He smiled and sat down, rubbing at the wet tangle of hair plastered across his face. “You must have known deep down that one day you would be able to aggravate me through your research,” he teased lightly. “That’s why.”

  
Andrew considered, tilting his head to one side. “Possibly.” He placed his empty mug back down on the table, and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to flatten it. 

  
“Though you do seem to be doing that less these days,” Neil remained him with a smirk that earned him one of his boyfriend's impressive eye rolls. 

  
“I got sick of trying to correct all your mistakes.” 

  
In the greatest shock to the neuroscience world since Riko Moriyama’s outing as a fake and his subsequent fall from grace into obscurity, well documented rivals, Neil Josten, formerly of Columbia University and Andrew Minyard of Palmetto State had appeared to bury the hatchet. Their first research publication together had been published some months ago now, and much to their chagrin, it had turned out that the effect they had spent years arguing over the cause of, was due to the interactions between both of their claims. Both of their friendship groups had a field day when that came to light, with some of them claiming that meant the pair of them were simply meant to be. _Bullshit._

  
“We're going to be late if you don’t hurry up,” Neil warned, throwing the damp towel towards Andrew. He caught it with ease, just as Neil knew he would, and flung it to the floor. 

  
“Who cares?” He said with a shrug, getting slowly to his feet. “It isn’t like class can start without us.” 

  
The campus hadn’t changed in the weeks spent away from it. That was his first thought as Andrew pulled into their usual parking spot. Not that Neil had expected it to, but he still couldn’t quite believe it some days. That he was here, that he was really here. The large amounts of orange, in support of the school’s exy team, admittedly had taken a while to get used to, but it had grown on him.

  
“Earth to Neil.” A hand waved in front of his face, pulling him from his thoughts.

  
“I’m fine.” 

  
“Wasn’t asking,” Andrew said, but he visibly relaxed. He opened the door and got out. “No second thoughts? Not missing your old school yet?” 

  
The very idea made Neil want to laugh, so he did, shaking his head as he watched Andrew lock the car. “Not one.” It was the truth, and probably one of the most honest sentences to ever spill from his mouth. Palmetto was home, but more importantly, Andrew was home. Palmetto was home because of Andrew. 

  
“You know,” Neil began, as they walked towards their offices, passing a few bewildered and heavily hung over first years on their way. Their rooms were situated directly across the hall from each other, at the end of the neuroscience teaching wall. Andrew was still smug that his office, cramped as it was, was still bigger than Neil’s. “I’ve been thinking lately-"

  
“Absolutely not,” Andrew cut him off sharply, digging out his ID card and swiping them both into the building. He still hated that photo, but he hated the fact that Neil seemed to be the rare exception to the bad ID card photo rule, even more. 

  
Neil pulled a face very similar to a pout. “Hear me out first, before you dismiss it. It might be a great idea.” True, they rarely were, but still. Neil folded his arms across his chest and followed him inside and down the hall.

  
He swiped them past the second door, leading directly to the faculty offices. “I doubt it,” said Andrew, holding it open for him to pass through, ignoring the urge to let it slam in his face for being so irritating this early in the morning. “Anyway, I said no more research team ups. Once was enough. Try it again and someone won’t survive it."

  
“You also said you would never want to get married,” Neil reminded him, pointedly staring at the sign secured to his office door.   
Dr. Andrew Minyard-Josten, professor in neuroscience. And, across the hall, in dark lettering that stood out against the pale wood of the door, Dr. Neil Minyard-Josten.   
Andrew rolled his eyes. “Haven’t you got a class to go and bore to death in ten minutes?” 

  
“I do.” Neil feigned looking at his watch. “And after than I have a husband to go and eat lunch with.” 


End file.
